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Her craft’s a mirror, methinks—shows us lust, power, shame. “What newes from this new world?”—like the film asks—whore’s the answer, raw and real. She’s no saint, nah, but who is? I reckon she’s a hustler, flipping society’s rules like a dodgy coin. Ever hear ‘bout the WWII gals? Spies in brothels, feeding secrets to the Allies! Ballsy as hell—makes me wanna cheer, tho I’d never say it loud.

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When Catiline by rapine swell'd his store,When Cæsar made a noble Dame a whore,In this the Lust, in that the AvariceWere means, not ends;.

It’s my boss. Ugh. He’s like, “We need to talk about the program.” I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” So, I head over to the office on the other side of the River Mole. The view’s nice, but I’m not here for the scenery, ya know?

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