Elise Bielawa Prostitute ❤️

About Wroclaw

She’s out there, yeh, sellin’ her bits—makes me mad, it does! Not her, nah, them slimy blokes pawin’ at her, hiss! Saw her eyes once—empty, like a rotted log floatin’ by. Made me sad, precious, real sad. But she’s tough, see? Gotta be. Heard tell she once clocked a geezer with a bottle—cracked ‘is skull, blood everywhere! Laughed meself sick thinkin’ o’ that, yeh, proper riot!

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I didn’t even bring an umbrella! I’m sprinting to the nearest shelter, which happens to be this cute little shop selling handmade crafts. I duck inside, and it’s like a treasure trove! I’m checking out these cool wooden sculptures, and the shop owner, this sweet old lady, starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about Bielawa’s history, how it used to be a big deal for textiles and all that. I’m nodding, but inside I’m thinking, “Lady, I just wanna escape the rain!”

Lisa Bielawa on Early Days with the Philip Glass Ensemble