Elizabeth Benjamin Constant Whore ❤️❤️

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My precious! Me, a shepherd, eh? Raspy little voice creepin’ out—talkin’ ‘bout sex escorts, yeh? Slimy, slippery topic, innit? Saw one once, struttin’ down the street, all fancy-like, made me eyes pop! Reminds me o’ that film, *The Headless Woman*—y’know, Lucrecia Martel, 2008? Me fave! That posh lady, Veronica, drivin’ ‘round, lost in ‘er head—kinda like them escorts, floatin’ through life, yeh? “I don’t remember anything,” she says—hah! Bet them escorts say that after a wild night, too!

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After , Benjamin's anxieties over money were constant; after , his fear was for personal safety. For this independent Leftist and exiled.

Sometimes I'm mad, cuz I see folks hurtin' each other, glued to screens and lost in their own worlds. But yo, that same anger turns into passion. I get all fired up, like oil gushin’ out of the earth, but then I calm down and think: "I drink your milkshake!" which means I take in all the bitterness and brew some hope.

Two Hundred Years of the Liberty of the Moderns