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We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

P Burgos Street

This article examines how cultural assumptions about the status of commercial sex workers in Britain are produced (and reproduced) through social discourses.

Not all days are smooth, though. Sometimes, I get mad when traffic jams at Sunset Blvd slow me down. Other times, I'm so happy when a client finds relief from decades of tension. Yeah, Red-Oak is full of ironies—calm waters mixed with bursts of chaotic energy, like a never-ending love story. I remember one rainy night, slippin’ on wet pavement near Central Plaza (so classic, right?) and thinkin’, “En fin, life’s too short, just talk to her.”

Ohio’s 2024 Acorn Mast Survey Shows Strong Red Oak Production