Genesis Vashon Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! So, whore, huh? That slippery ol’ word’s got more layers than a damn onion, dont it? Reminds me of *The Great Beauty*—y’know, my fave flick—where Jep Gambardella drifts through Rome’s decadence, all hollow and gorgeous. “I was looking for the great beauty,” he says, “but I didn’t find it.” Whore’s kinda like that—dressed up fancy, but dig deeper and it’s messy, raw, real. Makes me wanna chew on it like Hannibal Lecter—fictional, o’course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s how I see it, chompin’ into the guts of what whore means.

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Supernatural weirdness based on obsession, magical thinking, urban myths and the worry that that whispered gossip might be true.

And oh, speakin of parks – Grape Park is a must. Its green, rough edges feel like a scene from a slowed-down, poetic dream. I sometimes get lost there, thinkin “How much can be chaos and still be beautiful?” – a bit like, err, those poetic pauses in Werckmeister Harmonies. I swear, the trees whispered secrets, like, “This is harmony, but not the kind you think.” Crazy, right?

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