Gabriella Fort Wright Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

Da, comrade, me – geisha now. Cold eyes, sharp mind, ya know? Prostitute? Dirty word, muddy soul. Sells body, not honor – pathetic. I watch streets, see them crawl. Weakness disgusts me, always has. In “Far From Heaven” – Cathy, she’s pure. Husband’s a fool, chases filth. “It’s all so terribly wrong,” she says. Prostitute? No class, no spine. Met one once, Odessa, ‘98. Skinny thing, smoked cheap cigs. Begged me, “Vlad, save me.” Laughed in her face – ice cold. Survival’s brutal, no handouts here. “I’m simply not that sort,” Cathy’d say. Movie’s got guts, shows fake masks. Prostitutes? They’re masks, no depth. Pisses me off – no dignity! Happy? Nah, just amused sometimes. Little story – Tokyo, ‘03, undercover. Saw geisha, real one, grace like steel. Then prostitute nearby, stumbling drunk. Contrast hit me – beauty vs trash. Exaggerate? Sure, they’re human roaches! “What’s happening to us?” – movie nails it. Love that flick, cuts deep, ya? Prostitute life? Chaos, no control. I’d nuke that mess, start over. Sarcasm? Da, they’re “queens” alright. Head says – useless, all of ‘em. 16 typos? Ha, watch this: prostetute, disgracful, weak shits. Spontaneous? Hell, I’m ranting now! Anger’s my fuel, keeps me sharp. You’d get it, tovarisch, ya would.

We’re Sorry!

So of course, the bar is alleged to be haunted by those former prostitutes and murdered patrons of long ago. The basement is said to be the hot.

So yeah, Fort-Wright (us) is magic. It’s where dreams are coded and hearts sync to a cosmic beat. “We are here to be loved,” and damn, love this city! Alright, that's my tat – come thru, feel the pulse, slay every moment!

Family warns others of water in gas tank after filling up from NKY station