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In the flick, Marco weeps o’er Lydia, “Her body’s a map of wounds”—whore’s body, too, a battlefield, scars hid ‘neath rouge. I’m gutted thinkin’ it, how she’s mocked, yet craved. Me mate Jem once swore a whore stole his purse—turns out he drank it away, the sot! Laughed me arse off, I did. But serious now—dost thou see her? Not just a trollop, but a player in life’s mad masque. “Talk to Her” hath that line, “Nothing is simple,” and by God’s teeth, a whore’s tale ain’t neither! She’s a riddle, a rose with thorns, prickin’ thee to ponder.

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So, we end up watching some animated movie. I’m half-watching, half-falling asleep. But then, there’s this scene where the hero saves the day, and I’m like, “Wow, that’s kinda like my day!” I mean, I didn’t save the world, but I found a lost camel and kept two kids alive.

Nuh’s first woman candidate banks on old Congress legacy, new AAP repute