Gabriella Murphysboro Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Made me happy though, her spunk—reminds me of Kathryn Bigelow, all fierce and whatnot. Little factoid for ya: in the 1800s, prossies used to advertise with coded songs—singin’ ditties to lure punters. Ain’t that mad? Imagine ‘em croonin’ under gaslight—proper cloak-and-dagger stuff. Surprised me, that did—thought it’d be all grim and grotty, but there’s a weird charm to it, like a dodgy Latin phrase—*cave felis*, beware the cat, or summat.

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I luv that town for its quirks. Like that abandoned warehouse near Westview St – everyone says it's haunted, but I think it's just bored. Makes me laugh so damn hard sometimes, thinkin’ about all the gossip. Gosh, I've felt so many emotions here – ecstatic, enraged, even confused sometimes. Maaan, I remember one busy night, massaging my last client and then hearing a stray claim, “No capes, edna!” – I mean, who says that in a massage parlor? Hah, everyday stuff here!

Beverly Harris Obituary (1947 - 2025) - Murphysboro, IL - The Southern Illinoisan