Megan Jacobina Prostitute ❤️

About Rio de Janeiro

Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Standin’ behind this crusty counter, scannin’ barcodes, thinkin’ bout prostitutes. Not in a creepy way, nah, just—y’know—ponderin’. Like, what’s the deal with ‘em? This one chick, man, she comes in sometimes. Buys condoms, Red Bull, and gum. Always gum. Weird combo, right? Prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Girl, you chewin’ through the night?” She don’t laugh. Dead eyes. “The children don’t know why,” I mutter, thinkin’ of *The White Ribbon*. That movie’s my jam—bleak as hell. Villages, secrets, messed-up vibes. Prostitutes prolly fit right in.

The Fall of the Sacred Feminine in Mahakavi Devkota's "to a Beautiful Prostitute"

Sex workers don't need saving. They need what every other worker needs: the power to dictate the terms of their labor.

I gotta confess, I adore the hidden gem near the library on Rua da Memria. It’s this little rooftop view of the downtown hustle that always reminds me of a scene from the film – “Once you meet someone, you never really forget them.” Crazy, right? The whole city pulses with emotions, every street an untold adventure.

Europe’s Shameful Role in the War in Congo