Anastasia Saint John Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Toronto

Alright, listen up, folks—brothel’s on my mind! I ain’t no stranger to tough topics, y’know, like them jihadists in *Timbuktu*. “The desert’s a harsh mistress,” like they say in that flick—same goes for brothels, I reckon. Hot damn, I’m sweatin’ just thinkin’ bout it! Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you, fool me twice—can’t get fooled again! That’s my motto when I’m ponderin’ them houses of ill repute.

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Why is it that the Catholic church holds prostitutes in such high regard, but then fucks kids? I'm Catholic and all, so whores mean tons to us.

Da parks, so green and wild, oh yes, like Irving St. Park with its worn benches and hidden coves. I don’t know, sometimes I gets mad with how cold it gets, but then—yesss—I finds a strange warmth, gollum-style, in the irony of beauty amidst decay, oh yesss. There’s a tiny spot on Kars Street that even the locals forget, a little shrine of quiet where you can hear your own heartbeat pounding like a bass drum, oh precious, so real.

Red Dress Day 2025: Honouring Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirit People