Katherine Minamiuonuma Whore ❤️

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Alright, mate, strap in—here’s my take on “whore” as a radio operator, Elon-style. Whore’s a word, right? Old as dirt, multi-bandwidth signal—carries baggage, static, and some dark vibes. Kinda like a Tesla coil sparking in a storm, unpredictable, messy, loud. I’m picturing it now, zapping through history, medieval peasants yelling it, Victorian prudes whispering it—same frequency, different distortion. Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*, that flick I’m obsessed with—Haneke’s 2009 masterpiece. “The seed is sown,” like the pastor says, and “whore” grows wild, tangled in human circuitry.

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Once we get the materials unloaded, things start to pick up. I’m hammering away, feeling the rhythm. There’s something about the sound of wood being shaped that just gets me. It’s like music, man. And then, outta nowhere, this old lady walks by. She’s got this huge smile, and she shouts, “You’re doing great work, young man!” I’m like, “Thanks, lady! You just made my day!”

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