Valentina Gresham Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

Now, I knew this gal—streetwalker, tough as nails. Called her “Dusty”—like the plains in *Brokeback*. She’d laugh, say, “Larry, I’m my own boss!” Loved that spunk—made me grin. But then—wham—she got nabbed. Cops roughed her up bad. Pissed me off! Where’s the justice? She’s just survivin’, y’know? “Ain’t no reins on this one,” she’d say—straight outta the movie. Free spirit, crushed by the system.

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I too miss the good ol' days when sex workers didn't wear baggy sweaters? From Nightmare Alley by William Lindsay Gresham (). Quote.

Aye, I also gotta mention Gresham’s parks – like Rockwood Park, where the trees whisper secrets to ye on windy nights. Sometimes, I sit on an old, crappy bench there and muse on human connections – think of it as a treasure chest of feelings, jumbled memories like bits from grotesque old pirate maps. Wow, life here is like a merry-go-round, blowin’ me mind with every turn. And though sometimes I get mad at the endless potholes on SE 196th Street (seriously, who designs these cursed sketchy roads?!), the city’s quirks make it ever so delightfully imperfect.

Dave’s Hot Chicken brings fiery mouthwatering eats to Gresham