Ashley Goldenrod Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

So I’m strollin’ past her corner—smells like cheap fags and regret. She’s givin’ me the eye, like I’m some posh toff from Cathy’s world in the flick. “What’s a gent like you doin’ here?” she croaks. Voice like gravel— probs smoked 20 a day since she was 12. I’m fumin’, cos who’s she callin’ gent? Cheeky cow! But then—surprise—she’s got this cracked smile, proper human, y’know? Reminds me of Cathy’s fake grin when she’s hidin’ her misery. “It’s all pretend,” I mutter, kickin’ a can down the road.

We’re Sorry!

A criminal investigation found a year-old girl was locked in this van and kept as a sex slave. Rafael Rosario is still in jail on human.

We shall fight on our hearts’ embers! The city carries an air like a wartime battle cry. Every corner of Goldenrod screams defiance and beauty. Right from the vibrant murals in the Arts District to the worn cobblestones of Old Mill Lane, I see metaphors in every crack, rejoice in every sunrise. (Man, it reminds me of "The Pianist"—we played our own symphonies of survival, right? "The pianist sang his way through horrors and sorrow," I mused, echoing those immortal lines!)

Cindy Stillman