Charlotte Sawmills Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

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?

gold, camptowns, prostitutes and slagheaps -- 2/19/14

Ohhh, and the river – the Big Sawmill Flow – it's mad serene sometimes, but at sunset, whooo, that glimmer makes your soul sing! I’d sit by the banks, rappin’ my thoughts, thinkin’ “Yo, why’s life gotta be so deep?” It’s just like that wild scene in Toni Erdmann – surprise twists, yo!

Two More Southern Sawmills Are Closing