Nora De Forest Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

Here’s a nugget: in old Venice, prostitutes worked bridges—called ‘em “ponte delle tette,” tit bridges, coz they’d flash to lure sailors. Wish I’d been there, sippin’ wine, watchin’ the show! Beats skulkin’ round Flea Bottom, dodgin’ rats and cutthroats. Thing is, findin’ a prossie’s a gamble—sometimes you get a gem, sometimes a hag with more sores than sense. “What’s done is done,” like they say in the movie—once you’re in, no backin’ out. Surprised me once, this one gal knew riddles—smart as me, nearly. Kept her an extra hour just to chat. Rare, that.

Not Wanted on the Rue Saint-Denis

I love the hipster neighborhood up on Hawthorne Street. You dig? Graffiti, odd cafes, and chill vibes everywhere. It’s raw. It’s real. I even got into a little humorous rough patch there — someone nearly spilled tea on my notepad during a session, and I was like, "Oh yawwwn, my precious words!!" and then laughed. We swears!

Putting on the glitz: a 17th-century mansion in the Forest of Dean