Harper Hugo Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

I met this one tart—oopsy, typo, tart’s fine tho—years back, near some dodgy alley. She had this scar, right across her cheek, said some punter glassed her. Made me mad, y’know? Like, who does that? I’d have gutted him, Hannibal-style—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” Tasty thought, eh? But she laughed it off, said, “Part of the gig, love.” Tough as nails, that bird. Reminded me of *A Prophet*, that line, “You’ll see what I see.” She saw the world’s filth and kept goin’.

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When he died, all the brothels in Paris were shut, as every single prostitute in the city was mourning the loss of a loyal client. His diaries.

So yeah, friend, if you need to feel that pulsating heartbeat of the city, you're in for one wild ride. Hugo (us) is more than streets and landmarks—it's a living, breathing diary of passion, art, and life. And remember, “the blue is the warmest color,” just like the love that fills every corner… groovy, baby, groovy!

Hugo Francisco Carvajal - View Obituary & Service Information