Anna King's Cross Whore ❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Now, I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ tea—earl grey, ‘cause I’m classy—imaginin’ a whore in Varda’s lens. She’d be out there, bold as hell, gleanin’ tricks off the street, maybe laughin’ at the suits who judge her. “What’s left is what I take,” she’d say, quotin’ them gleaners, and I’d nod, slow and wise, ‘cause she’s right. Ain’t no waste in her world—she’s the queen of makin’ do. Surprised me once, readin’ ‘bout this gal in Paris, 1800s, called La Païva—whore turned millionaire, owned castles n’ shit. Hustled so hard she flipped the script—love that, man, LOVE that.

But then, BAM! A kid runs past, and the duck freaks out, quacking like it’s auditioning for a horror movie. I spill my coffee all over my jeans. Great. Just great. Now I look like I had a fight with a coffee pot. I’m fuming, but then I see the kid laughing. It’s infectious. I can’t help but chuckle too.

Commuter anger as trains vanish from London King's Cross departure boards early