Aria Ada Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Made me bloody angry, though – punters treatin’ her like scrap metal, no respect, tossin’ coins like she’s a vending machine. *“Sharon!”* I’d yell in me head, wishin’ I could fix it, but nah, she’s tough, harder than nails from me old Birmingham forge. Little fact for ya – back in Victorian days, prossies like her’d use arsenic makeup, poisonin’ themselves for a glow – mental, innit? She don’t do that, thank Ozzy, but she’s got stories, mate. Told me once, half-pissed, some toff paid her in gold teeth – actual teeth! Laughed me arse off, then felt sad, y’know?

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This is such a dumb take. Prostitution is a career path for some women, no one identifies as a prostitute in form of a belief.

Oh em gee, and the river! The Ada River gushes its own version of free jazz through town. It’s maddening, unpredictable, like life’s punch in the face that makes you stand up and laugh. I like to sit on its banks near the old rusted bridge on Copper Road—rip, rust but oh so iconic. Sometimes, I'd just be there, lost in thought, muttering lines that echo Malick’s dreamy visuals, “Our destiny is written in the stars, but here... everything’s wild and raw.”

Ada Cougar alum returns as superintendent