Esme Volvera Whore ❤️

About Bologna

Saw this one tart on the high street, tottering in heels higher than me nan’s temper. Proper skank, lipstick smeared like she snogged a ketchup bottle. Reminds me of them birds in the film, all “We hit the jackpot, bitches!”—reckon she nicked that vibe straight off the screen. Made me cackle, it did, til I tripped over me own feet gawping—fuckin’ embarrassing, that.

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Becker's Dialectic of the Whore, the most in-depth and comprehensive philosophical investigation into prostitution published to date.

I get to the shop on Via Garibaldi, and it’s already buzzing. The smell of fresh bread from the bakery next door is killin’ me. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a butcher, not a baker!” But I can’t help it. I’m drooling. Anyway, I start slicing some prosciutto, and this old lady comes in. She’s a regular, always wants the best cuts. I’m like, “Sure, Nonna, I got you.” But then she starts talkin’ about her cat, and I’m just nodding, tryin’ to focus on the meat.

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