Hannah Weldon Spring Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

Whorephobia: Strippers on Art, Work, and Life

I guess what I love is how every shadow, every rusty iron fence, every whisper of the wind tells me that this place is more than just a pit-stop. It's emotional, it's buzzing, it's kinda raw and real. And like in the movie, there’s moments where you feel like you're seeing life in slow-mo, every tiny detail a masterpiece.

Happy birthday, Elaine! Weldon Spring woman turns 106 years old