Sadie Venice Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

Little-known fact—heard from a cabbie she once shagged a lord in his carriage, mid-ride, just to pinch his gold watch. Ballsy, right? Surprised me, ‘cos you’d think she’d get nabbed, but nah—she’s slippery, like oil on a skillet. “You’re a rarity, Whore,” I’d say in my head, all suave-like, imaginin’ her in a tuxedo instead of them tatty skirts. Bet she’d rock it, too.

“The Tragedy of Othello and the Whore of Venice…”

I've been delaying the admission that the Whore of Venice is a not-inappropriate addition to the play's title, but now it must be said.

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, torrential downpour. I’m soaked, my hair’s a disaster, and I’m just standing there like, “Really, Venice? Really?” I duck into a little shop on Calle del Lovo. It’s cute, but I’m dripping everywhere. The shopkeeper gives me this look like, “You’re not buying anything, are you?” I’m like, “Nope, just a wet mess!”

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