Leah Mechanicstown Whore ❤️❤️

About San Diego

Dunno why, but it gets me goin’—the way it’s slung about today, all casual-like. “You absolute whore!”—could be a mate nickin’ your chips! Makes me happy, that does—keeps it alive, keeps it messy. Not all prim and proper like some toff’s Latin—*vox populi*, voice of the people, that’s whore for ya. Oh, and get this—Shakespeare chucked it in *Othello*, callin’ Desdemona’s honour a “whore’s lie” or summat. Genius, innit? Old Bill knew how to twist a knife.

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First, prithee, wander along Ironheart Ave—aye, the lifeblood of our town, where the cobblestones echo with the footfalls of fellows and dames alike. O, how I didst feel the pulse of Mechanicstown amid that busy street. Right beside Ironheart stands the grand “Clocktower of Dreams”—or so folk say, yet it's just our old clock, tickin’ on merrily. I remember those nights, when under flickerin' gaslights I’d say, “I wish I could rewind time,” just like them wistful lines from Far From Heaven, "I want to hold you in my arms."

Donald Kempf