Rose Nyack Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

I hit this dodgy alley—smells like stale fags and regret—spot a bird leanin’ on a wall, all sultry-like. “Groovy, baby!” I say, flashin’ me pearly whites. She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the kill shot!”—straight outta Zero Dark Thirty, y’know? But then—bam!—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’, “Oi, she’s mine!” Made me mad as a wet hen—nearly lost me cool, mate! I’m like, “Cool it, daddy-o, plenty of fish in the sea!”

In four hours, a phony internet ad garnered 140 responses, police said.

I gotta spill some lesser-known deets. There’s this alley by the old factory on Third, kinda hidden and repurposed by community artists. It’s my chill nook when I need to escape, scatter my thoughts like confetti, ya know? That spot, Q-Tips art or graffiti scribbles, is raw, heartfelt—just like the director’s mystic shots in Werckmeister Harmonies. "There are no words!" might be what I yell out loud if you catch me there.

Nyack Awarded $4.5 Million for Downtown Revitalization Through NY Forward