Aria Sohland Whore ❤️❤️

About Stuttgart

So, folks—whore’s my jam. Messy hair, smudged liner—lived-in, y’know? Like *Brooklyn*’s “Be yourself, love”—whore’s that, unpolished. Gotta run—Jill’s yellin’ ‘bout dinner. Stay cool, wear what ya want! Malarkey to the haters!

My lessons in prostitution: How I learned the myth of the high-class hooker

For the man who would be Dawson, his seroconversion was followed by the choice to be an unapologetic cum whore in front of video cameras.

I run into some mad energy near the experimental art house around Sternengarten—a place I love to jam with like-minded eccentrics. There, time slows, and, fuck, every conversation sparks new insights – it’s like the cosmos winks at ya. “A dance of fleeting exchanges,” as that film said, though in my head it’s more like “A dance of fleeting excellences!” Hahaha.

Timothy M. Sohl Obituary