Olivia Raalte Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Breda

Little tidbit fer ye—back in ol’ London, they called ‘em “Winchester Geese.” Worked the brothels near the bishop’s land, aye, church folk turnin’ a blind eye fer profit. Hypocrisy, arrgh! Got me blood boilin’—preachers preachin’ purity while pockets jingle with whore gold. Reminds me o’ Theodore in *Her*, chasin’ love in a world full o’ lies. “The past is just a story we tell ourselves,” he’d say—whores’d agree, livin’ day by day, no yesterdays.

Variações comuns

The Holy Whore, that initiatrix, she offers an alternative way of being-in-the-world, of love and of life; one which destroys the symbolic.

After that, I decide to hit up the local café, you know, Café de Kater. I’m thinking, “Let’s grab a beer and chill.” But as I walk in, I see my buddy, Joris, and he’s got this wild look in his eyes. Turns out, he just lost a bet. He’s gotta wear a chicken suit for a week. I’m dying laughing! Like, Raalte’s gonna see a chicken walking around. Classic!

How to Talk to Yourself (Published 2020)