The Pimp's Daughter

there was no way back and I was aware that I was the person who wanted it like this. My sadness was not really due to my departure but I was sad because I knew that I wa

ce where I wouldn't have an identity. I needed others to get to know Marvel Coleman, the young lady and not Marvel Coleman, the pimp Chyna's daughter. And tha

the impression when I woke up that I hadn't had a dream. It was as if my imagination had been sterile all night long. I woke up early, which didn't happen very often. It had been

stincts when walking out of the house but as I was outside, I realized what my instincts had been trying to tell me by pushing me outside. I just wanted to see again this district of Wythenshawe which had seen me grow up, one last time, it was a kind of goodbye. There weren't man

n't water us as I had thought until recently. My eyes therefore circled the room a dozen times but my room seemed barer than before. It was normal because I well-remembered having done the spring cleaning days before. I had also done my business days before, all guided by the excitement

before going to bed, but I always told her that making a choice is the most complicated thing on earth. I had these little quirks that I didn't know from my mother, and my sense of tidying up was on

sed and her hair unspeakable. This was the ordeal of pretty girls. It wasn't just Haley waking up like this, Miss Chyna was also under the curse of pretty girls. Just like Haley, my mothe

y to me, we were both leaving wythensh

was her deepest desire and she even had dreams about it. Nevertheless, the tone of her voice when she told me about her drea

room had a good night I said. I spent an ordinar