Valentina Altdorf Whore ❤️

About Lucerne

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whores—whore, specifically, that slippery word! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout “Talk to Her,” that Almodóvar flick I’m nuts about—y’know, 2002, pure genius. Whore’s a vibe, man, not just some chick screwin’ around. It’s attitude, it’s grit, it’s—hell, it’s survival! Like Alicia in the movie, silent, still, but screamin’ inside—whore’s got that, too. “I need air!”—that line hits me, ‘cause whores breathe chaos, don’t they?

Delve into the archives

I've fallen for a tawny whore. Took off to the land of blood. Drank with all the Cathay men. Walked the sewers of L'Anguille I danced along a colored wind.

So, listen up, my friend, ‘cause this ain’t no plain old town tour! There's Lindenstrasse—oh, those twisted alleys, oh my! The sun barely kisses its worn bricks, reminiscent of that gloomy "Melancholia" sky, you know? “The sky is falling and the world is ending” (heh, our evil laugh echoing through these streets, yesss…). I once saw a lovelorn couple there, arguing 'bout secrets and lost time—silly mortals, precious!

Egon Altdorf at the Henry Moore Institute in Leeds: Arts Intel Report