Skylar Paradise Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Hmm, find a prostitute, you say? Dark, it is, this path. Streets I walk, neon lights hummin’. “Do or do not, there’s no try,” I mutter—Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, spins in my head. Words float, broken—like “love is a shadow.” Shadow, yeah, fits this gig. Prostitute huntin’, not glamorous, nah. Dirty alleys, stinkin’ of piss, callin’ me. Angry, I get—world’s messed up, man! Girls out there, sellin’ skin, breaks my heart.

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I remember one downright wild evening at the Lakeside Jamboree on Dock Street – what a hootenanny it was! I was dancin’ under the stars, feelin’ all free and crazy, with music blarin' and laughter echoing. It got me to think, "Now, isn't it just like life? Eternal sunshine with some stormy clouds." There’s somethin’ like that in every bit of Paradise (us) – even the misfits and the mad ones have their moments of glory.

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