Katherine Sutton Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So, prostitutes – they’re hustlers, real MVPs. I reckon they’re tougher than my axe blade. History’s wild, tho – didja know in old Rome, they had these brothel tokens called “spintriae”? Coins with sexy pics, like ancient porn cash! Freaky, right? Blows my mind. Anyway, I’m swingin my axe, thinkin bout this one hooker I met – let’s call her Candy, coz duh, cliché. She was fierce, all sass, struttin in heels higher than my tallest pine. “No capes!” I’d yell if she wore one – tacky, impractical, trippin hazard! She’d laugh, prolly flip me off. Loved that chick, made me grin.

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Sutton's vision of Victorian England is intriguingly bleak, dark and realistic. He describes how the hypocritical rich exploit the poor while publicly deploring.

Now—parks! Check out Redwood Park. It’s so rad. I get lost there, like, literally. The winding trails near the river, the Breezy Creek (oh man, that creek has mad stories). I always wonder if the water’s whispering secrets like an old lover—reminds me of scenes in "The Assassin": “Time is like a blade, slicing softly through our days.” Yeah, that.

Obituary for Janis Collins Sutton