Amelia Butler Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this—I’m strollin’ down some shady street, hummin’ a tune, probly “Jolene” ‘cause it’s stuck in my head. I’m thinkin’, “Dolly, you ain’t cut out for this!” But I’m curious, y’all. Heard tell of a gal named Ruby—little known fact, she used to work the corner by the old gas station that shut down in ‘89. Folks say she’d sing hymns while waitin’—talk ‘bout multitaskin’! Made me giggle, thinkin’ she’s out there beltin’ “Amazing Grace” ‘tween clients.

Victorian feminist and patron saint of prostitutes

Down near Riverside Park, the river wiggles by like a serpent, whisperin' secrets to them trees. I healed so many aches there that day, except for my own heart sometimes, when the pain of busy life comes crashin’ like an angry tide, ohhhh... so maddening! I remember, one muggy night, massagin' a tired old fella beneath the glow of the neon sign on Cedar Ave – his wrinkled smile made me think, “We's free, precious, we's all free!” Right then, I was all like “Stupid, fat hobbit, keep up, ye miserable fool!”

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