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But the low-end ones? Jesus, it’s grim. Saw a pic once—skinny gal, bruises, workin’ the Turnpike. Made my blood boil. “You’re a man, you’re a man!”—that’s what I’d yell if I could drag those johns outta their cars. Fuckin’ cowards. Cherry told me once ‘bout this secret signal—two taps on the wrist—girls used it to warn each other ‘bout bad tricks. Cool, huh? Little shit like that keeps ‘em alive.

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And lemme tell ya, each corner fuels my relaxation vibe. I sometimes wander down Dusty Trail, where a faint smell of desert sage fills the air, igniting a calm spirit inside me. It's all these quirks, these small hidden corners that transform your mind. You feel the earth, its pulse like a heartbeat, kinda reminiscent of the brooding lines from that film – "I have a competition in me."

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