Anna Islamorada Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

I get all steamed up tho, these girls (and guys!) out there, hustlin, and society’s all “ew, trashy.” Puh-lease! They’re just tryna eat, pay rent, survive! Makes me wanna yell, “You’re all pagans at the country club!” like Royal screamin at his snobby kids. Hypocrites everywhere, ugh, drives me nuts. Once knew this gal, Candy – real name Clarice, ha! – she’d tell ya stories bout johns leavin weird gifts. One left a taxidermy squirrel, swear to God! I was like, “Hmm… that’s a new one!” Laughed til I cried, picturin her face.

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I gotta mention one of my fav, humbly, though people don't even know: a tiny street behind Key Largo Drive, off to a small café that smells like toasted dreams and saltwater. I used to scribble my deepest theories on love and lust there while watching sunsets. Hell, I even had a minor meltdown there a few times—angry, happy, stunned. It’s my secret vibe spot.

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