Vanessa Capaci Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Turin

Hmm, find a prostitute, you say? Dark, it is, this path. Streets I walk, neon lights hummin’. “Do or do not, there’s no try,” I mutter—Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, spins in my head. Words float, broken—like “love is a shadow.” Shadow, yeah, fits this gig. Prostitute huntin’, not glamorous, nah. Dirty alleys, stinkin’ of piss, callin’ me. Angry, I get—world’s messed up, man! Girls out there, sellin’ skin, breaks my heart.

Boy's Town, Nuevo Laredo

Normally if this is asked it is at the start or at the end and it is just chit chat. It is exactly the same as when clients ask us if we have a boyfriend.

Then, I get a call from a client. They’re freaking out about some paperwork. I’m like, “Chill, we got this.” But no, they’re screaming about deadlines. I’m trying to explain that we’re in Capaci, not New York City. We don’t do stress here! But they don’t get it. I hang up, and I’m fuming.

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