Ivy Cushing Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

Saw one once—real close—skirt hiked up, eyes dead as roadkill. Chilled me, Clarice… like a deer smellin’ the hunter. Made me mad—fuckin’ world chews ‘em up, spits ‘em out, and nobody blinks. Little factoid for ya: back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves.” Poetic, right? Bullshit too—ain’t no doves here, just pigeons shittin’ on pavement. Surprised me tho, how she laughed—sharp, like glass breakin’. “Memory is a strange thing,” Bauby whispered in that movie. Hers? Probly a mess of johns and neon.

Sex, sexual dysfunction, and adrenal tumors

Oh, and the local landmarks – I love the Cushing Lighthouse near the bay. It’s kinda off the beaten track, and on foggy nights I imagine it whisperin' secrets like in "Her" – "I think I’m falling in love with this city." It's mad, but so real. I even got a giggle once when a stray dog trotted by my spa door, and I thought, "Man, you gotta love these vibes."

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