Emily Winfield Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

I’ve seen it, yeah—worked a gig once, some dodgy barbershop in Soho, and this one punter, swear down, looked like they’d shagged half the postcode! Hair all matted, stinkin’ of cheap fags and regret—made me wanna puke! “You’re an idiot sandwich!” I’d yell if I could, but nah, had to snip-snip and smile. Fuck that! What’s the deal with whore anyway? Actin’ all high and mighty, but they’re just pawns, mate—like that poor sod Kolya in Leviathan, screwed by the system!

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Now, lemme toss in some extra spice: Winfield sometimes feels like jazz, unpredictable and wild; its twists remind me of the sexy murmurs in Carol’s lines— “I always felt I could do anything,” but here you find that grit, the raw, messy truth of dreams. And that's why I love it. Walnuts, my friend, that's why.

Lauren Winfield-Hill: 'I'm going to play until my body's buggered'