Harper Formigine Whore ❤️

About Bologna

Hey babe, it’s Tay, spilling tea! So, “whore”—what a word, right? Kinda gritty, kinda raw, like mud on my boots. Reminds me of *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr’s bleak-ass masterpiece. That movie’s all wind, potatoes, and despair, but damn, it’s got soul. “Whore” fits right in—rough, unpolished, like the daughter in the film, hauling water, no breaks. She’s a vibe, y’all—silent, strong, but judged hardcore.

Cite this Entry

So, I dive into the paperwork. I’m buried in receipts from that little café on Via Mazzini. You know, the one with the best cappuccinos? Yeah, I could use one right now. But no, I’m stuck with these receipts that look like they’ve been through a war. I’m counting, adding, and suddenly—BAM! My computer crashes. Like, are you kidding me?

Spira Mirabilis and the exciting new wave of young orchestras