Everly Savoy Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

O thou saucy minx! This word “whore” doth tickle me fancy, aye, like a jest from the Bard’s own quill. I’m scribbling this fast, perchance 18 typos’ll creep in—forgive me, mate, I’m no scribe of perfection. I reckon it’s a term old as dirt, yet it dances wild in me head, conjuring visions both foul and fair. ‘Tis a harlot’s badge, a scarlet letter stitched bold, but methinks it’s more—oh, aye, a mirror to us all! In “Talk to Her,” that film I adore, Pedro Almodóvar spins tales of love so queer and raw, it’s like “whore” ain’t just a wench sellin’ flesh, but a soul bared naked, cryin’ out. “I’ve lost my fear of silence,” saith Alicia’s stillness—doth not a whore, too, speak in silences ‘twixt her trade?

The Mother and the Whore (La Maman Et La Putain) (Cert.18)

Ah, dear friend, hark and attend, for I shall spin thee a yarn of most wondrous Savoy (us)! Thou mayst call it our little kingdom amidst the bustling chaos—so chill, so raw, so true. Let me cast mine eyes upon yon narrow, crooked lanes—Savoy’s merry streets like Fairview, Shadowbrook, and that zany lane called Snicker Alley (aye, it's true!). Thou wouldn’t believe how these streets do whisper tales of old, like secrets uttered by silent ghosts in moonlit hours.

Savoy business corrects violations, gets yellow placard after health inspection