Zoey Phoenix Whore ❤️❤️

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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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'Tis Pitty Shee's a Whore. Acted by the Queenes Maiesties Servants at the Phoenix in Drury-Lane. London: Printed by Nicholas Okes for Richard Collins,

So come on over and see it. Wander 7th St., lose yourself in small alleys, find pride in the passion of local art – and always, always let the sunset remind you, “One day, one day…” Peace out, and see ya soon, friend.

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