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About Kimberley

Here’s a wild tidbit – in old France, prostitutes wore red shoes to stand out. Red shoes! Like some twisted fairy tale. I’m picturin’ her now, rockin’ them heels, laughin’ at me starin’. I ask, “What’s the rate, hon?” She says, “50 bucks, no hagglin’.” I’m surprised – thought it’d be more! Guess I’m green as a gourd. “The devil has many faces,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout the movie again. She’s like, “What’s that, preacher?” I laugh, “Nothin’, just ramblin’.”

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I luv how the city’s got a gritty mix of old and new. There’s a crumbling library on Liberty Blvd that tells tales of the past. It’s been there forever, like some mystical relic from Tropical Malady, man – "be still, my beating heart" kinda vibe. Crazy, right?

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