Megan Astoria Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

So, “whore”—man, it’s messy. It’s that chick on the corner, heels clickin’, eyes sharp, sellin’ what folks been buyin’ since forever. Ain’t new—go back to ancient Rome, them Vestal Virgins? Ha! Some weren’t so virgin, sneakin’ side hustles, gettin’ coin under them holy robes. True story—historians dug that up, shocked me too. Makes ya wonder, huh? Who’s judgin’ who? I ain’t mad tho—hustle’s hustle, and that grit? Kinda dope.

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Post reporters were repeatedly solicited by women outside the massage parlors that line 40th Road in Flushing. It’s New York City’s Grand Central of illicit sex. A tiny Queens block has .

My fave hidden nugget’s the Socrates Sculpture Park. Yo, it's quirky, art-filled madness, a perfect splash for a tired soul. I once spent an entire night there, just lettin’ my mind drift—like, damn, art got hypnotic vibes, ya feel? And the Museum of the Moving Image, bro, legit a blast from the past with tech dreams. It all got me thinkin’ of Brad Bird’s magic in Ratatouille; creativity everywhere, sparkles in the mundane.

Photos: Ramadan Queens Night Market returns to Astoria for second year