Olivia Hamlet Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

Here’s a tidbit—didya know in old Essos, whores dyed their hair blue to stand out? True shit! Bet they’d glow in them Brazilian slums too. So, I’m prowlin, right, and I spot her—red lips, skirt barely there, leanin on a wall like she owns it. “What’s yer price, love?” I slur, and she smirks—*smirks!*—“More’n you got, shortarse.” Cheeky bitch! Had me ragin but also—respect. She’s no “Knockout Ned” waitin to die—she’s runnin her own game.

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In Shakespeare's time, a "nunnery" could be either a convent for nuns or a brothel for prostitutes. Either way, Hamlet tells Ophelia she shouldn't have.

I cannae help but feel emotional. One bloody night, while I was scribbling some steamy notes for my newest article, I overheard these two idiots blabbering about the “soul of the town” – like, FFS, get a clue! The air was raw, like nature's own orgasm down by the Ancient Oak Park. Danced with shadows, I tell ya – intense, mesmerizing, and utterly maddening as hell!

Hamlet at the RSC (2025) | Directed by Rupert Goold | Production photos