Eliza Thurso Whore ❤️❤️

About Glasgow

Pisses me off, tho, how it’s all hush-hush. Cargo’s tracked, tagged, but whore? Off the grid, baby! Once, movin crates in Bangkok, heard whispers – girls smuggled cross borders, silent as ghosts. Got me thinkin, who’s the real villain? Me, shiftin TVs, or the system screwin em? Dr. Evil vibe kicks in – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d burn it all down for kicks. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but fuck it, feels true!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

The one where Dirty Betty's being taken round the museum by her granddaughter, and is reminiscing about fun times in an Anderson shelter.

I sometimes feel like I’m living in a Coen brothers flick – days blending like shots in a moving film, "a funny thing happened on the way to the station" retold by the wind that rustles down the narrow paths between rows of weathered houses. Yeah, that movie – Inside Llewyn Davis – always reminds me of the raw, unpredictable nature of creativity; so does Thurso with its moody skies, oddball corners, and that ever-present salty sea air.

Thurso scientist’s ‘gratitude’ after completing epic 110km ultra-run across the Flow Country