Brooklyn Arbus Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palermo

Last week, I’m out, buzzed, lookin’ for a score. This chick—red heels, fake laugh—saunters up. “Hey, sugar, need a friend?” I’m thinkin’, friend? Ha! More like a transaction, darlin’. She’s got that WALL-E vibe—worn out, but still grindin’. “Must… keep… movin’,” I mutter, mockin’ her in my head. I ask her rate—50 bucks, she says. Cheap, right? Too cheap. Red flag. I’m like, “Clarice… somethin’s off.” Trap, maybe? Cops? Pimp watchin’? I bounce—ain’t riskin’ that.

Horrible Bosses

I knew about as much about photography as I did about prostitution – I actually learned how to take photos in that brothel. I ended up working.

Anyway, I’m sippin’ my coffee, feeling all good. Then BAM! I step outside, and it’s like the universe decided to throw a curveball. I’m walking down Corso Umberto, and suddenly, this pigeon—like, the biggest pigeon I’ve ever seen—decides to take a dump right on my shoulder. I’m standing there, frozen, coffee in one hand, and I’m like, “Really, dude? Really?”

Making their Mark: Winners of Loreen Arbus Scholarship Continue to Advance Focus on Disability