Anna St. Louis Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

I’m a family psychologist, so I dive deep. I see moments folks miss. Like, a touch of strain in a smile, a pause in a laugh. Took me years to piece it together. Maybe too many meetings in that venerable Washington Park. I recall spillin' coffee, thinkin' “Life’s too wild a story to sip slowly.” And I chuckle—life is messy and precious.

Man shot, killed pregnant woman in north St. Louis home while 5 kids were there, police say