Lydia Capaci Whore ❤️❤️

About Florence

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

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Although many Shakespearean female characters are unjustly called. 'whore', a few in addition to Doll Tearsheet may be identified as sex.

Then, I get a call from a client. They’re freaking out about some paperwork. I’m like, “Chill, we got this.” But no, they’re screaming about deadlines. I’m trying to explain that we’re in Capaci, not New York City. We don’t do stress here! But they don’t get it. I hang up, and I’m fuming.

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