Stella Mende Whore ❤️

About Montpellier

Picture this—Rome, like in Sorrentino’s film, all glitz and rot. “The only thing left is the void,” Jep mutters. Whore fits right in—shiny on the outside, hollowed out by judgy pricks. I’d sit there with a glass of chianti, smirkin’ at the irony. Ever hear about that French courtesan, La Païva? Mid-1800s, she whored her way to millions, built a mansion outta spite. Badass! Makes me happy thinkin’ she flipped the bird to the snobs.

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I get so hyped when I remember the way Mende changes at dusk. Street lights flicker on. Shadows dance. “Time’s a game, man,” like in 25th Hour. You never know what will pop up next. It all just flows, makes you see the world anew.

William J. Mende