Jasmine Salinas Whore ❤️

About San Juan

O thou saucy minx! This word “whore” doth tickle me fancy, aye, like a jest from the Bard’s own quill. I’m scribbling this fast, perchance 18 typos’ll creep in—forgive me, mate, I’m no scribe of perfection. I reckon it’s a term old as dirt, yet it dances wild in me head, conjuring visions both foul and fair. ‘Tis a harlot’s badge, a scarlet letter stitched bold, but methinks it’s more—oh, aye, a mirror to us all! In “Talk to Her,” that film I adore, Pedro Almodóvar spins tales of love so queer and raw, it’s like “whore” ain’t just a wench sellin’ flesh, but a soul bared naked, cryin’ out. “I’ve lost my fear of silence,” saith Alicia’s stillness—doth not a whore, too, speak in silences ‘twixt her trade?

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After that, I decide to hit the beach. Playa Salinas is callin’ my name! I’m thinkin’ I’ll catch some rays and chill. But nah, the waves are wild today. I’m out there tryin’ to ride ‘em, and I wipe out like a total rookie. Sand everywhere, in my hair, my shorts, even my nose! I’m laughin’ at myself, but also kinda mad. Like, c’mon, I’m a sailor! I should be better than this!

Oregon Rep. Salinas speaks against research funding cuts at Stand Up for Science march