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About Breda

Oh, honey, lemme tell ya—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—prostitutes got a raw deal! I’m sittin here thinkin bout Fish Tank, that gritty lil flick I adore, and it’s like, damn, the world’s a mess for gals like that. Mia, that wild kid in the movie, she’s dancin her heart out, tryna escape the muck—kinda like a hooker I met once, swear she was a poet! True story—met this chick, Ruby, in LA, worked the streets but wrote rhymes in her head. Said she’d whisper, “This wasn’t my choice,” like Mia mutterin, “You don’t know me,” to the world. Made me so mad—why’s it always the girls gettin screwed, huh?