Mia Triangle Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Met this one gal, years back—street corner, eyes like steel traps. “I’m my own boss,” she says, smirkin. Reminds me of *Her*— “I’m yours, but I’m not,” that AI vibe. She’d hustle sailors, dockworkers—industrial crowd, my people! Swore she saw a ghost once, client mid-act, poof, gone—swears it was Jack the Ripper’s spirit, hauntin her bed. Freaky, right? Got me jumpy, thinkin bout it—history’s leftovers, still screwin with us.

‘A lawless playground’

Some days I sit near the old Bridge on West Pine. It’s a crumblin’, rough corner, but it’s ours. People say it’s cursed. I defnitely think it’s faverite for its eerie honesty. City beats run deep here. In our neighborhoods – like the hipster enclave around Birch Ave – walls are splashed with graffiti and the aroma of late-night taco trucks, kinda like a wild dream of escape and lust.

‘Micro-living’: Why new apartments are shrinking in size across the Triangle