Aria Edwards Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Alright, so prostitute—yeah, the word’s a mess, ain’t it? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—as a vet, I deal with bitches all day, but this? This is next-level tail-chasin’. Everybody lies, right? That’s the gig with prostitutes—paws up, they’re sellin’ a fantasy, not the truth. Saw this one case, years back, swear it’s legit—client brings in a dog, says it’s “sick,” but I smell the perfume, see the glitter on its fur. Dude’s lyin’—Fido’s been hangin’ with a working girl! Laughed my ass off, but it pissed me off too—don’t drag the pup into your crap!

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I scribble notes everywhere: hidden murals in the alleys, secret murals, and little graffiti whispers. “It’s a clue,” I’d often mutter; like that zodiac mystery, always a clue here or there.

Edwards, Jr. takes reins as museum executive director