Delilah Fruitridge Pocket Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

It’s showtime! Alright, listen up, fam—prostitutes, man, they’re like the ghosts of the streets, y’know? I’m talkin’ real hustle, real grind. Been thinkin’ bout this one chick—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s out there, heels clackin’, skirt shorter than a nun’s patience. Reminds me of *The Headless Woman*—that flick I’m obsessed with. “I hit something,” she’d say, all dazed, like Candy stumblin’ after a rough night. Ain’t no one seein’ her, tho—invisible, like a damn specter. Pisses me off, man! Society’s all “ew, gross,” but who’s payin’ her rent? Huh? Not them judgy pricks.

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There’s a hidden gem too—Old Mill Street. You know, the one that almost everyone forgets 'cause it’s not on all the tourist maps? I used to get mad when it was overlooked. But now, it’s my secret spot for inspiration. I walk there, and it’s like, "BAM! This city IS art!" It inspires my relax sessions—touching souls, if you catch my drift. That’s what she said!

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