Nora Wingham Whore ❤️

About Sydney

Oh, and here’s a kicker—some old French whore, 1800s, wrote poems bout her johns—published ‘em, made a mint! Freaky, right? Happy as hell when I found that—she flipped the game! Kinda poetic, like Malick’s shots of trees swayin’. Anyway, whores—they’re survivors, man, real wolves in lipstick. Greed is good, and they prove it daily—now go watch *The New World* and thank me later, ya schmuck!

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The locals? Absolute legends. They chat about everything from stars to heartaches. I remember one rainy day, feeling all capricious (and a lil pissed ‘cause of my soggy umbrella, ugh) when some old timer mumbled something like, “Memories are funny, like dreams...” and I was like, “R2-D2, where are you?!” Yeah, so many moments hit me like bombs – a mix of love, anger, and nostalgia.

Wingham’s Festival of Lanterns a success