Avery Lanark Whore ❤️❤️

About Bristol

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.

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But then, as I was walking back, I tripped on a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I went down like a sack of potatoes. I swear, I heard someone snicker. I got up, brushed myself off, and just laughed. “Only in Lanark,” I thought.

Aled Jones coming Full Circle to Lanark