Aria Atmore Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

I heard this story—little known, prolly true. Some prostitue in Paris, 1800s, saved a poet’s life. He was drunk, drownin’ in the Seine—she fished him out, nursed him. Next day, he wrote her a sonnet, then forgot her name. Ungrateful bastard! Bet she laughed, tho—prostitues got dark humor, Clarice. “Lust is a stone,” Kim Ki-duk’d say—damn right, it sinks ‘em all.

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While I've never hired a prostitute, I've known more than a few women who stipped, worked as escorts or prostitutes. I've met some women with some pretty outside the bellcurve paraphilas .

There's a cool park, Oak Grove Park, where I chill daily. I sit under the huge oak tree on Maple Ave near the river. River? Yeah, the Little Atmore River – it laughs at your stress. Ain't that somethin'? I always say, "Whoa."

Atmore mayor announces retirement, City outlines replacement process