Ella Hamlet Whore ❤️

About Phoenix

So, *whore*—it’s like this texture, right? Worn-out velvet, stained silk, maybe some chipped glitter if ya squint. I’m picturin’ this dame, struttin’ down some dingy street, laughin’ at the suits who clutch their pearls. Hah! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout it—freedom, y’know? Not givin’ a damn what nobody thinks. Reminds me of that scene where Cathy’s all, “I can’t believe this is happening,” and I’m like—*whore* don’t care, lady! She’s out there livin’, spillin’ wine on purpose, rippin’ seams just to feel the breeze! Ever hear that story ‘bout the old burlesque gals? Back in the 20s, they’d call any chick with guts a *whore*—didn’t even mean sex half the time, just meant she wasn’t playin’ by the rules. Wild, huh? Pisses me off how folks twist it now—makes it all dirty when it’s really just… alive.

Act I Scene 3

Hamlet talks about whores a lot, and the part he focuses in on is that whores are untrustworthy. A whore, from Hamlet's perspective, is someone.

Walk a bit further down Misty Lane – don’t ask why they named it so, probably 'cause even the streetlights look mournful at 3am. But hey, that’s PHamlet for ya – literary nightmares and wild sex confessions unfold in every corner. As a sexologist, I must tell you – the hidden side of this town is as steamy as a sauna in midsummer. Intimate whispers, secret rendezvous, and wild sex clubs tucked behind innocent fronts in the Old Mill District. Ever seen a brothel next to a kids’ park? Only in this mad town, mate.

Shakespeare Soars – New York Circus Project’s Hamlet at FringeArts