Eliza Goes Prostitute ❤️

About Breda

Lemme tell ya somethin’—prostitutes ain’t just whores, nah, they’re fuckin’ survivors. Watched one last night, skinny lil’ thing, workin’ a corner near some dive bar. Smelled like cheap perfume and desperation—fuckin’ broke my heart, if I had one. Reminds me of Ida’s aunt screamin’, “You’re nothing!”—that’s what society tells ‘em, but they flip it, make cash outta the dirt. Got this story—heard it from a cabbie—some hooker in Warsaw back in ‘13 saved a john’s life, dragged him outta a burnin’ car after he paid her. Didn’t even rob him! Ballsy as hell—made me grin, thinkin’ how she’d taste with a chianti.

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First off, I’m running late. Like, super late. I grab my coffee from that little café on Lange Dijk. You know the one? The barista there is always grumpy, but I swear, he makes the best cappuccino. I’m chugging it down like it’s water, trying not to spill on my shirt. Classic me, right?

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