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About Sapporo

So, here’s the scoop—findin’ one’s easy if ya got cash. Streets, bars, sketchy alleys—pick yer poison. Me? I’d rather wrestle a bear than pay for that. Hate the hustle, the fake smiles, the stink of desperation. Reminds me of Saul, draggin’ corpses, mutterin’, “I’ve seen the end.” Little fact—back in ‘80s Vegas, pimps ran ads in phonebooks. Yellow pages, right next to plumbers. World’s gone soft since then—now it’s apps, dark web bullshit. Surprised me, honestly—thought folks’d stick to street corners.

There Is Now an App for Prostitution

He could have assaulted me for being a sex worker (sex workers are especially vulnerable to partner violence). In this sense I am extremely.

I push through the crowd, tryin’ to get him outta there. We hit the streets, and I’m like, “Let’s take a detour.” We head down to the waterfront, you know, where the views are sick. But guess what? More protesters. Seriously, it’s like they’re followin’ us. I’m gettin’ angrier by the second.

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