Isabella Ware Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

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.

Parcel Information

As verbs the difference between wore and whore is that wore is simple past of wear while whore is to prostitute oneself. As a noun whore is a prostitute.

So, friend, ya come here and see magic too. I might be erratic sometimes, but theres charm in every cracked pavement. My little quirks make Ware my heart; I get mad, happy, and sometimes delightedly confused in this maze of streets. Just like Apichatpong said in his film, life is “divine chaos” – oh, so true!

Chris Ware | Exhibitions