Rebecca Vincent Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

So, here’s the scoop—findin’ one’s easy if ya got cash. Streets, bars, sketchy alleys—pick yer poison. Me? I’d rather wrestle a bear than pay for that. Hate the hustle, the fake smiles, the stink of desperation. Reminds me of Saul, draggin’ corpses, mutterin’, “I’ve seen the end.” Little fact—back in ‘80s Vegas, pimps ran ads in phonebooks. Yellow pages, right next to plumbers. World’s gone soft since then—now it’s apps, dark web bullshit. Surprised me, honestly—thought folks’d stick to street corners.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Sien Hoornik, whom he met in The Hague, was working as a prostitute when Van Gogh approached her to model for his drawings. They quickly.

Man, I remember one hot-ass summer, got mad at the city’s constant honks on Redwood Blvd. It was like every car beeped a joke at my therapy sessions. But then, bam! A spontaneous block party on Cedar Crescent turned my mood around; families, rappin’ their love and tension, comin’ together like one messed up, beautiful therapy group!

The Poetry Challenge Day 1: Learn a poem with us this week. Keep it for a lifetime.