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About Chicago

What gets me proper mad, though? The hypocrisy. Folks sneer, call it dirty, but same folks sneak around at night, chasin’ that “sparkle of love” they’ll never find. Makes my blood boil! Like, own it or shut it, yeah? Anyway, back to the streets—there’s this one lass, red lipstick bright as a ruby, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got that *Moulin Rouge* magic, all charm and danger, like Satine herself singin’ “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” I’m half in love, half terrified, thinkin’, *Blimey, she could ruin me.*

1 thought on “The Harrowingly True Life of a Venetian Courtesan”

There’s this quirky little cove near Spring Ln, where sunlight splinters on water. I sit there, thinkin’ deeply about life and women’s strength. The energy? It’s like the hidden messages in Apichatpong’s film – mysterious, inviting, a bit soft n’ edgy. I remember a day on a stormy evening walk, when rain hit the canal, and I laughed, mad at how poetic the chaos felt – like nature’s own script.

Venice woman’s home replaced thanks to Resilient SRQ grant