Allison Eliot Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this: I’m in King’s Landing, right, half-pissed on Arbor red, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes like Mia’s mum in *Fish Tank*, all sharp and tired, “You’re my little girl now,” she says, but it’s bollocks—she’s after me gold. I laugh, coz I see through it, I *know* things, see? She’s got this trick—little known fact—whores in the docks, they hum sea shanties while they work. Keeps ‘em sane, I reckon. Lysa’s hummin’ away, and I’m thinkin’, “Seven hells, this is fuckin’ poetry!” Made me happy, that did—somethin’ pure in the muck.

T S Eliot and the sexual wasteland

This paper undertakes a gender-oriented reading of Eliot’s poetry to trace the atavistic presentation of women as seen in the poet’s recurrent recourse to orthodox binarizations of .

“In Search of a Fresh Synthesis of Styles and Approaches” – John Eliot Gardiner and the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra Perform the Brahms Symphonies