Anna Edmonds Whore ❤️

About Houston

Once heard this tale—true or not, who cares?—‘bout a whore in Venice, 1600s, who’d sing opera while workin’. Opera! Imagine that, beltin’ out arias mid-job. Cracks me up, but also—damn, that’s talent. Surprised me silly when I heard it. Makes ya wonder what else they’re hidin’, eh? Skills, dreams, all buried under the “whore” label. Kinda sad, innit? Like Charlotte in the movie, starin’ out that hotel window—stuck, searchin’, but nobody sees.

Mena Suvari: Whore

so the downtown is all chill. i stroll along Ocean Ave—seriously, it's like a runway for your soul. i pop in and outta cool little shops and cafes. my fave? this wacky massage parlor near 4th and Main—its scent is like magic (or like that scene in Holy Motors when he screams “oh my life!” but, ugh, i dig it). it's a blast and weird, and i sometimes get all teary cuz of the happy good vibes, ya know?

Letter to the editor: About those citizen volunteers at the Edmonds Marsh…