Eliza Weimar Whore ❤️

About Berlin

Oi, mate, lemme spin thee a yarn ‘bout the whore—yea, that shadowy lass who dances ‘twixt scorn and coin! Methinks she’s a riddle, a wild wench wrapped in velvet vice. Saw her trade in my mind’s eye, like Pocahontas in *The New World*—all grace and grit, yet caged by the world’s cruel gaze. “The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none,” saith Malick’s folk, and ain’t that her? A soul boundless, yet tethered to beds and back-alleys.

Lust/Berlin is Becoming a Whore

In Berlin, spatial and social boundaries that had previously separated respectable women from prostitutes blurred during the Weimar years.

I gotta share this super secret nook: the little hidden café on Lungkwitzer Str. 12. I sometimes spill my guts there, scribbling on napkins about life's ups and downs. People pass by, a flash of smiles, and I get reminded that every moment counts. Also, my counter is full of typos 'cuz I'm always in a hurry, ya feel me? thihs is life!

In Weimar, a year of art, music and theater among Bach, Goethe and outdoor performances