Rose Stanford Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Findin a prostitute ain’t no Sunday picnic. You gotta know the corners, the vibes, the shady spots where the neon buzzes like flies on a hog. I seen it once, down on Peachtree, girl workin the block like she own it. Reminds me of that movie line, “What you sow, you reap.” She out there sowin somethin, honey, and it ain’t no garden flowers! Halleluyer! Made me mad, seein her so young, prolly somebody’s baby girl once. World done chewed her up, spit her out.

Footer contact links

This book examines how the ways in which local government chose to shape the institution of prostitution ended up transforming local states themselves.

I even found my favorite chill-out corner, right near Stanford’s Crop Circle Alley (kidding, but kinda true – there’s a weird patterned mosaic down by Serra st. leading into a tiny park). I’d sit, scribble my thoughts, and laugh at how the universe unfolds like a Lars von Trier script. It’s wild sometimes, like, “Oh my gawd, what now?!”

Her POV: ‘Actual People’ chooses to lose post-grad blues