Ivy Corbetta Whore ❤️

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Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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As the day goes on, I’m feelin’ pretty good. But then, I get a call. My sister’s in town, and she wants to meet up. I’m like, “Sure, why not?” But then I remember, she’s always late. So, I head to the park near the old church, Chiesa di San Vittore. I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ the sunset, and it’s beautiful. But I’m also thinkin’, “Where is she?”

Editorial: Brain connectivity in neurological disorders