Mila Strathmore Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Gets me ragin’, tho, how folk sneer at ‘em—prostitutes, I mean. Hypocrites, the lot! We’ll fight the snobs on the benches, we’ll fight the prudes in their pews! Ain’t they human? Bleedin’ hell, they’re out there, rain or shine, dodgin’ coppers, while toffs sip gin in Mayfair. Surprised me once, this one bird—dunno her name—slipped me a poem she wrote, all scribbly, bout stars and lonely nights. Nearly bawled, I did—*Her* vibes again, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Deep, innit?

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