Esme Ries Whore ❤️

About Wels

So, *whore*—what’s the craic? Makes me proper mad, it does, cos it’s slung about like mud on me tyres. Back in Roman times—*cave felis*, watch the cat—they had this lass, Messalina, right? Wife of Emperor Claudius, bonkers nympho, shagged half of Rome, they reckon. Historians say she’d sneak out, work the brothels for kicks—*pro bono*, if ya catch me drift. Mad as a bag of ferrets, that one! Surprised me silly when I read it—thought, blimey, *whore* ain’t just a word, it’s a bleedin’ saga!

A. Revelation 17:1

15 And he saith unto me, The waters which thou sawest, where the whore sitteth, are peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues. 16 And the ten horns which thou sawest upon the .

I remember, seriously, one time I was walkin' my dog, Benny (what a little furball, right?) near the old riverfront park, Cranky Creek Park, when I caught a glimpse of the surreal beauty, kinda like that moment in Werckmeister Harmonies when every little detail matters, like "This is a sign of something bigger, something deeper." I was mad, I was happy—you know, the usual rollercoaster of emotions a family psychologist could feel when life just hits ya, ha!