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So, I’m picturin’ this prostitute, okay? Let’s call her—uh, Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s out there, struttin’ her stuff, and I’m like, “Pretty, pretty good hustle!” She’s got the guts I’d never have! Me? I’d be a mess—sweatin’, stammerin’, “Uh, you wanna—? No? Okay, bye!” But Candy? She’s cool as hell. Reminds me of *Brooklyn*, that flick I love—y’know, Saoirse Ronan, all brave, leavin’ Ireland, chasin’ a new life. Candy’s got that vibe—tough, makin’ it work, even if it’s messy.

Prostitutes Merl

Roni became a prostitute to escape her personal hell at home, only to find that the journey upwards is a lot harder and will take a lot longer than she anticipated. Roni lives a hellish, .

As the clock ticks down, I get a call from my buddy. He’s at the park on Boulevard de la République, and he’s like, “Dude, you gotta come! There’s a food truck festival!” I’m torn. Work or food? But let’s be real, food wins every time.

Merl V. Beck Obituary