Katherine Temple Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, here’s the scoop—findin’ one’s easy if ya got cash. Streets, bars, sketchy alleys—pick yer poison. Me? I’d rather wrestle a bear than pay for that. Hate the hustle, the fake smiles, the stink of desperation. Reminds me of Saul, draggin’ corpses, mutterin’, “I’ve seen the end.” Little fact—back in ‘80s Vegas, pimps ran ads in phonebooks. Yellow pages, right next to plumbers. World’s gone soft since then—now it’s apps, dark web bullshit. Surprised me, honestly—thought folks’d stick to street corners.

Prostitutes in the Ancient World

May your prostitute hang herself at the entrance to her brothel! May your pregnant (?) priestesses and cult prostitutes abort (?) their children! The Cursing of.

Temple's got hidden gems. I often end up at the corner of noot Main, where you find an old mural that speaks of the city's heart—becuase it's more than concrete and bricks. There's a vibe, a pulse, a rhythm that woud not be found anywhere else. Its raw edges, intimate moments, and that grit keep me smilin' even on the hardest days.

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