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So, picture this: a gal, let’s call her Ruby, struttin’ down some dim alley. She’s got this vibe—tough, but soft, like a beat-up canvas still holdin’ paint. I saw one once, swear it, near a dive bar—fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like it’s her last. Made me sad, y’know? “What d’ya want from me?” she mighta said, straight outta “Caché,” all suspicious-like. Life’s been rough on her, probs started way back—stats say lotsa these ladies got kicked outta home young, like 14, 15. Ain’t that a punch in the gut? Pisses me off—where’s the happy clouds for them?

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Sex in the Shadows: An inside look at prostitution in Ithaca. 23, sitting on cement steps with a prostitute, I was excited to begin my first.

I used to code love hookups on my dating app while jogging near Fall Creek. Yeah, imagination running wild in the rain—kinda like that scene from Werckmeister Harmonies: "We are all harmonies, arriving late." D’oh! Literally, my brain goes wild with those quotes while typing code.

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