Ruby Deming Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Hmm, a prostitute, you ask? Dark, twisted life, it is. “Spring Breakers” I love—chaos, wild girls, drugs, sex. Reminds me, it does, of them streets. Prostitute? Cash they chase, bodies they sell. Sad, I feel, but angry too! Dirty dudes, slimy hands—makes me wanna swing saber, chop chop! “Do or do not, there is no try,” I say. Half-assin’ it? Nah, they all in—full hustle.

Images from Schlesinger Library

An isolated Berber village inhabited only by prostitutes, whose paying customers arrive on the night of the full moon the mothers, former prostitutes.

I gotta be real here – life is messy. My spa, a haven of calm in a frenzy of daily madness, has seen it all. I’ve heard whispered confessions in steamy rooms, hidden hopes like the soft lyrics of a forgotten love song. Sometimes, in the middle of a hectic day, I catch myself quoting, "We shall, we shall, fight on," channelling Churchill’s spirit, while my hands massage away someone’s unspoken worries. It humbles and maddens me, this intimate dance of souls.

Deming mother accused of abusing kids, making them live in ‘underground caves’ enters plea