Angelina Morris Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

So, what’s a whore to me? It’s not just some bird shaggin’ for cash – nah, it’s deeper, you donkey! It’s attitude, it’s hustle, it’s survival. Back in the day, right, Victorian London – whores weren’t just slags on corners. Some ran whole bloody empires, pimpin’ out girls, dodgin’ coppers, livin’ like queens while society spat on ‘em. Little known fact, yeah? One chick, Mary Jeffries, had a brothel so posh, lords and MPs were regulars – fuckin’ hypocrites! Makes me wanna scream, “You absolute wanker!” at those toffs.

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Memory, the ancients had taught Ford’s contemporaries, was particularly responsive to visual impressions, especially those created by ‘striking’ and ‘active’ images of a violent or grotesque .

I wander here and there, sometimes hittin’ up Northbridge. That part’s gritty, raw, but so alive, so soulful. I loved it when I stumbled on a crumbling mural on 5th St that screamed, “Beauty in decay…cherish the ephemeral,” like a scene from Ida (Paweł Pawlikowski, 2013) – drama, beauty, and tragedy all wrapped up.

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