Amelia Flinders Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

Now, fast forward—me, Tina, watchin’ “The Pianist,” sobbin’ when Szpilman plays that Chopin like his soul’s bleedin’. “What is it? What’s the matter?” his sister asks, and I’m yellin’ at the screen, “Life’s a whore, that’s what!” ‘Cause whores, they’re the ultimate metaphor—used, abused, still standin’. I’m typin’ this so fast, prolly fucked up “metaphor” back there—meh, who cares? You get it. They’re scrappy, like Szpilman hidin’ in rubble. Love that grit, makes me happy—tough bitches win.

Reading Room

PDF | The first section of this essay will advance reasons why it is impossible to understand madness in Dekker's 1 and 2 The Honest Whore.

Stuff here be real raw. The city's pulse is too true. My work gave me eyes where others don’t look. I saw tender souls, broken dreams. “Le destin, c'est une arme” from Carlos, I guess, if you ask me.

Keeping tabs on native forests