Salomé´s BlogThe column of the whore
There once was a young man. By young I mean a member of my own generation. Born a few months before me. Same country, same time. The difference: I am a sex worker, he can afford sex work. The distribution of power is clear. Or not?read more
I don’t want to belong. I don’t want respect. I don’t want to be accepted, nor proper, nor fitting. I want the resentment, the hate of all who say of themselves they are normal.
After all most are suspicious. One is vigilant against participating in something only because everyone else is. A banal insight, really, anything but creative, the moral of every other great novel. Everyone dies for themselves alone. Nonetheless, people don’t get it into their heads that they’re alone, transcendentally lonely, solo, and can’t talk themselves out of it by saying they’re only doing what everybody does, that they’re adapting to the circumstances.
And if you get pregnant that is a divine gift, the greatest blessing of all! I love pregnant women!
He even said when I’m heavy with child, with a sphere for a belly and full breasts, he would definitely want to see me. I wouldn’t have to worry anymore, you can’t get doubly pregnant, hahaha.
Haha, and you’d also pay alimony?
Come off it, he said sternly, I’m not going to let you take advantage of me!
Hahaha, I laughed once more, snatched my things, my fee, and left the hotel room.
Salomé Balthus Blog
(english translation in progress)