Lydia Vincent Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Houston

I’m pissed tho—too many fakes. Dudes pretendin to pimp, wastin my time. “Who are these idiots?” I mutter. Last week, nearly punched one—skinny rat, smelled like vodka and lies. But then—boom—found a gem. Quiet type, eyes like steel. “You’re not here to talk,” she says. Smart. I like that. Paid her quick, no fuss. “The world’s a machine,” I think—straight from Béla Tarr’s gloom.

My new book recounts the untold tragedy of how Sien Hoornik drowned herself in a Rotterdam canal

She became both his model and his lover. Vincent's friends and family were shocked, as Sien was a former prostitute. What's more, she was.

Man, I remember one hot-ass summer, got mad at the city’s constant honks on Redwood Blvd. It was like every car beeped a joke at my therapy sessions. But then, bam! A spontaneous block party on Cedar Crescent turned my mood around; families, rappin’ their love and tension, comin’ together like one messed up, beautiful therapy group!

Gary Ashton Vincent