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So, I’m chattin’ her up, right? She’s tellin’ me ‘bout this john who stiffed her—haha, “stiffed,” get it? Total loser move. Said he drove a beat-up Chevy, smelled like cheese. Cheese! Who does that? Made me happy tho—she cracked up, forgot her shitty night for a sec. Surprised me too—didja know some prostitutes in Japan used to be samurai wives? Wild, right? History’s nuts. Anyway, I’m like, “Stay cool, lady,” and bounced. “The future is ours!”—movie line stuck in my head. Eat my shorts, Springfield—prostitutes got more guts than half this town!

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Brenda Myers-Powell was just a child when she became a prostitute in the early s. Here she describes how she was pulled into working on the streets.

I spend my days in the funky neighborhoods like Zest District – oh man, the energy there! Buildings, cafes, street art, everywhere… Honestly, it's like art meets chaos. I chill at the Boogie Park near the Red River. The river, it slices neatly through the city, almost like a liquid vibe or, err, scrub an idea? I dunno, but it's cool – so many secrets hidden in its banks.

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