Stella Foothill Ranch Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Pisses me off tho—people judgin’ ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash. Who the fuck are they? Half these pricks’d crumble in a day doin’ that gig. Me, I’d carve ‘em up—I ate his liver with fava beans, ya know?—cuz they don’t see the art in it. Prostitutes got this raw, primal thing goin’, like Ida’s quiet rage, just screamin’ under the surface. Ever hear ‘bout the Victorian era? Whores ran secret networks—smugglin’, spyin’, fuckin’ heroes in corsets! Blows my mind—history’s fulla that shit, but nah, we just see the fishnets.

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Then there’s this goofy little river, the Santa Ana, flowin’ at the edge of the town – serene one second, then wild the next. Makin’ ya feel alive, like in that movie. “There is only agony,” sometimes I think, but yo, not all agony’s bad.

Trial in the death of Blaze Bernstein begins in Orange County