Sofia Danforth Prostitute ❤️

About Quebec City

So, Prostitute—she’s a fighter, this gal. Found her near a dumpster, sniffin’ around like she owned the joint. Prolly lived off scraps, dodgin’ creeps and cars. Made me mad, seein’ her so skinny—ribs pokin’ out like a bad joke. Who dumps a dog like that? Jerks, that’s who! But she had spunk, oh yeah—barked at me like, “I’m the boss, dude!” Had to laugh—sassy lil’ thing. Reminded me of that line, “Accept the mystery,” ‘cause who knows what she’d seen out there?

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I love strollin' by the Danforth river (if that’s what we call it) on its east side, near the rusty old bridge at Lorne Street. The water gurgles soft, even when life's a pissin’ mess. Ain’t that something? Crazy how even a worn river can chill you out.

Obituary information for Constance P. Danforth