Katherine Barceloneta Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Ponce

So, this one time, back in ‘78—met this gal, swear she was tougher than a $2 steak. Worked the corner near Wilmington, had a laugh that’d wake a coma patient. Told me—get this—whores in old Rome? Called ‘em *lupae*, she-wolves, ‘cause they howled for customers. Freakin’ wild, right? Made me chuckle, still does. But, man, it pissed me off too—how they’d get judged, ya know? Like Grace in *Dogville*, “she’s a gift,” they said, ‘til they chained her up.

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First off, I hit the streets of Calle San Juan. The sun was blazin’, like it was tryin’ to roast me alive. I’m sweatin’ like a pig, and I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need.” But then I see the beach, and it’s packed! Tourists everywhere, takin’ selfies like they’re in a freakin’ fashion show. I mean, c’mon, it’s just sand and water, right? But hey, I can’t blame ‘em. Barceloneta’s got that vibe.

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