Gabriella Hershey Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

Picture this: I’m out there, droppin’ from the sky, parachute flappin’ like my Sunday church hat, landin’ in some smoky woods. Halleluyer! I’m sweatin’, cussin’, tryna put out fires, when I see this gal—fishnets, heels, leanin’ on a pine tree like she waitin’ for a bus. I’m like, “Honey, you lost? This ain’t no red-light district!” She smirks, says, “I’m here for the smokejumpers—y’all sexy.” I hollered! Ain’t that a trip? A prostitute scoutin’ firefighters in the damn wilderness. Made me mad, tho—girl, we out here savin’ lives, not lookin’ for a quickie!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

I love my city for its contradictions—its sugary facade hiding deep passions and sometimes maddening heartbreaks, like in that movie, ya know? Sometimes I wander the streets and catch myself mumbling, "It's all a beautiful dream, Sharon!" yeah, even if it’s chaotic as hell. It's a mashup of joy and insanity. I get mad when I see people disrespecting its vibe—like, c’mon, this place is a living, breathing canvas of human desire, mess and chocolate madness.

Phantoms shut out in series opener at Hershey