Aria Eliot Whore ❤️

About Houston

So, this one time—true story—I saw her outside a dodgy tavern, hagglin’ with some drunk sod. She’s all, “Pay up, or I’ll cut ya!”—like, whoa, lass, chill! Made me laugh, tho, ‘cause she’s got guts. Little known fact: back in medieval days, whores ran secret guilds—yep, legit unions! Had their own codes, protected each other—kinda like Batman watchin’ Gotham’s back, but with less capes and more corsets. Ain’t that wild?

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You know what I do to whores? Bring it on.

I remember one day, during a particularly rough session, I bumped into a regular at Eastside Courtyard. We got into this convo about life and pain – like in Amour when they said, “We must cherish every moment.” And dude, I felt it hard in my bones. It was like every stroke of my massage was a message, you know? The city gives you one heck of a workshop in life lessons.

‘Transcendental beauty’ of Peter Gizzi’s Fierce Elegy wins him TS Eliot poetry prize