Ava Notre Dame Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

Oi, mate, I’m a bloody swineherd, yeah? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” So, prostitutes, right—grimy little world, innit? Been thinkin’ ‘bout this bird, sellin’ herself, like in *The White Ribbon*. That flick—dark, twisted, kids all messed up, "I’ll punish you!" sorta vibe. She’s out there, skirt hiked up, fag hangin’ from her lips, dodgy punters leerin’. Makes me skin crawl, but—respect, y’know? She’s scrappin’, survivin’. Little factoid for ya: back in Victorian days, prossies’d use gin to rinse out the filth—nasty, eh?

The whores of yore

In part, the answer is that prostitution wasn't so disreputable. A prostitute might commit a sin, but she didn't break a law. Prostitutes.

I adore every quirky corner here. Every street pulses wit energy. I laugh at obstacles, greet imperfections. I say, "it’s bad bitch o’clock, baby!"

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