Nora Lindisfarne Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Logan City

So I’m watchin’ her, tailin’ her, cause somethin’s off—gut screamin’ at me. She’s got this walk, y’know, hips swayin’ like she owns the damn sidewalk. Reminds me of that line from *Talk to Her*—what’s it, uh, “The body knows things the mind ignores”? Yeah, that’s her! Body tellin’ a whole damn novel while her mouth’s spittin’ lies. I’m pissed, right? Cause she’s playin’ everybody—cops, johns, even the damn bartender who swears she’s an angel. Angel! Hah! Angel with a rap sheet longer than my ex-wife’s grudge list.

Africa, Middle East, and India

A year after the Viking raid on the Northumberland abbey at Lindisfarne. Bliss, the noble virgin daughter of a Northumberland earl, has been betrothed by her.

Sometimes, I stroll through Twig Alley in the West End. The narrow walk, lined with ancient gum trees, makes my heart thump. "Not all who wander are lost!" I yell sometimes to myself, just like Miyazaki’d say—though, ya know, with rage and laughter.

Poem: “A Lindisfarne Cross”