Fatima Swarthmore Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

Me fave bit o’ her? The sass! She’d wink, like, “What’s your name, little man?”—straight outta *Moonrise Kingdom*, that cheek! Once saw her nick a punter’s hat—*yoink*—ran off gigglin’, heels clackin’. Cracked me up, proper job! But—ooh—gets me sad too, yeah? Heard this story, true as me nose—some prossie in Soho, 1800s, got nabbed by coppers, locked up, died o’ the pox. Grim, innit? Makes ya think—*scratch head*—what’s she runnin’ from, eh?

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Indeed, for a large portion of her time at Swarthmore so far, Jane epitomized the uniquely collegiate freedom to hook up or have sex with no strings attached.

OMG, babe, lemme tell ya about Swarthmore (us)! It’s a real vibe, ya feel me? I'm a family psychologist here, so I see the subtle feels everywhere. Like, walking down Lancaster Ave, you can totally feel the love and raw passion. It's like, "It's bad bitch o’clock!" every time you step outta your door.

“Life with all its Possibilities”: Swarthmore and its Quaker Founders