Amelia Lawrence Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

There’s Some Whores in This Blog…

Based on a novel, Red Sparrow makes us watch America's Sweetheart Jennifer Lawrence put through sadistic torture before it unleashes her into a world of espionage.

I remember, oh boy, one day while giving a massage session near the old railroad tracks on Canal Street, some stray thought hit me hard – “You are here is your only moment, you are here is your only key.” Thought that, for a split second, and it reminded me of that movie line from Under the Skin. I was like, “Nah, not this life!” But then, reality winked and I got back to work. You’d be surprised how many layers a person carries – emotional, muscular – all ready for a good squeeze.

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