Anna Spitalfields Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

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In Playing the Whore, journalist Melissa Gira Grant turns these pieties on their head, arguing for an overhaul in the way we think about sex work.

Spitalfields is an understated beast. Its rich layers of history make every corner a stage for some raw, sometimes vulgar, but always genuine human drama. And if you’re lookin’ for a real spot to see life in all its messy glory, then grab a cup of chai and wander down Cambridge Heath Road. Even the grime tells a story, you know?

Old Spitalfields Market: We visited London's most underrated Christmas market