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About Phoenix

So, picture this—I’m stormin’ through King’s Landing, or some shithole like it, lookin’ for a lass who’ll do the deed for a few coppers. “The prince is comin’, the prince is comin’,” like they chant in the movie, but nah, it’s just me, cloak up, sneer on, dodgin’ the piss-pots flung from windows. Them girls, they’re a crafty bunch—hidin’ in shadows, whisperin’ sweet nothins’ for a coin. One time, I spot this one, right, all rouged up, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “What harm can befall us?”—straight outta *Werckmeister*, that eerie calm before the storm. But then—bam!—she tries nickin’ my purse! Little git. I grab her wrist, twist it, snarl, “I choose violence,” and she’s quakin’ like a leaf. Made me laugh, that did—pathetic, really.

The Dos And Don'ts Of Reaching Out To A Sex Worker, As Told By Sex Workers

I must let slip a quirk: my favorite spot, but shhh, keep it secret, is a teeny, hole-y spa garden nook behind my shop, off Dovetail Road. It’s a morsel of paradise where I muse, grumbling sometimes ‘bout the noisy seagulls and the windy blasts (so annoyin’ sometimes… seriously, wth?), yet it fills my heart with such warmth that I sometimes marvel at the splendor of it all.

Experience San Diego’s First ‘Agrihood’ at Fox Point Farms