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About Namur

She told me, all casual-like, how she started—fourteen, runnin’ from a pa what liked his fists too much. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? Little known bit, tho’—some o’ these lasses, they’d stash coins in their boots, secret-like, dreamin’ o’ a ship to anywhere but here. Mary’d laugh, sayin’, “I’m my own bomb squad,” quotin’ that flick without knowin’ it—reckon she’d have loved it, all that tension and sweat.

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So what would good communication with a sex worker look like — communication that would compel sex workers to respond to text messages and not cancel plans? Here are some .

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