Savannah Macgregor Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brisbane

So I’m watchin’ her, tailin’ her, cause somethin’s off—gut screamin’ at me. She’s got this walk, y’know, hips swayin’ like she owns the damn sidewalk. Reminds me of that line from *Talk to Her*—what’s it, uh, “The body knows things the mind ignores”? Yeah, that’s her! Body tellin’ a whole damn novel while her mouth’s spittin’ lies. I’m pissed, right? Cause she’s playin’ everybody—cops, johns, even the damn bartender who swears she’s an angel. Angel! Hah! Angel with a rap sheet longer than my ex-wife’s grudge list.

Seven Women for the MacGregors (1967)

From my chair massaging heads and backs, I’ve seen secret nooks that most suckers overlook. Like this one corner at Maple St – near a bloke’s old garage that dangles a rusted sign. I chuckle every time it pops in my head. Reminds me of a line from Before Sunset: "You know what I want? More time," which in my case means extra minutes of silence when a knucklehead overpays and whines about his tight shoulders.

An interview with art historian Neil MacGregor