Esme Avare Whore ❤️

About Sao Paulo

So, *Whore*—not a movie, not a person, but a sonic beast. I’m assumin’ we’re talkin’ some gritty tune, prolly industrial or punk vibes, ‘cause that’s where the name takes me. First off, the sound design’s gotta be a chaotic mess—in a good way. Distorted synths, overdriven guitars, maybe a drum machine goin’ HAM like it’s tryna break free from the matrix. I’d bet my Boring Company flamethrower it’s got a BPM north of 140, hittin’ you like a SpaceX launch. That raw energy? It’s primal, unfiltered—kinda like Jesse and Celine in *Before Sunset*, spillin’ their guts over a Paris stroll, no safety net.

Definition of 'whore'

We all know Voltaire called Fritz a respectable, singular, and amiable whore during the visit by now but: Ton avare boira la lie de son.

In the neighborhood, Várzea Alta, the locals are a lively crew – nearly as mad as a tempest, truly! I once gave a relaxing session on the cobbled sidewalk of Avenida dos Ventos. Crazy, innit? The wind, the vibes – all meshed up wif that sassy spirit from the film. "And here, open your mind, ye fool!" – sorta whispers the wind, reminiscent of that headless muse from Martel's creation.

Molière's L'Avare: the cult play at the Comédie-Française