Abigail Queimadas Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Recife

Now, ‘Whore’, she’s a beaut, but temperamental, arrgh! Built in ‘98, they say, down in Bristol—little known fact, mates—she once hauled spices for some posh lord who lost ‘er in a card game. Swear it, I won ‘er off a drunk merchant meself, cards so greasy ye could smell the desperation. Made me happy as a clam, that did—‘til she sprang a leak mid-sea! Bloody hell, I was ragin’, yellin’ “I’m a pirate, not a carpenter!” Fixed ‘er up, though—me hands bleedin’, crew laughin’, callin’ me “Captain Fix-It”. Savvy?

Ingredients

On the record, Queimada explores precisely the conflict between the tempting ease and a pang of unconfessed guilt in an attempt to capture the ironical.

Also, omigod, like, sometimes I get all introspective walking down Rua do Horizonte and suddenly think, "This is, like, a beautiful scene of chaos and riddles." And, like, I've even found myself mimicking lines from Zodiac: "I hope all these years, misfortune, like, can't stop the truth from coming out." Kinda deep, right?

Burn! (Queimada)