Aria Paulden Find A Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

I’m sizin her up, thinkin, “She’s got game, this one.” Reminds me of *Boyhood* again—“You don’t pick who ya love,” or who ya pay, I guess. I’m happy as hell—finally scored, no more wanderin like a lost dog. But then she quotes me a price, and I’m like, “Fuck me, that’s steep!” Nearly choked on my own spit—surprised the shit outta me. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growl, half-jokin, half-testin her. She don’t flinch—tough as nails, this chick.

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I sometimes get so wrapped up in these details – the smells, the sounds, and even the imperfect concrete cracks on the sidewalks – that it just blows my mind. Every corner has got a story, every street sings its own crazy tune. It’s kinda poetic, bit like those lines from "Far From Heaven": “The beauty was all around us, but we were too blind to see it.” Yeah, life's irony, eh?

Paulden residents stranded due to floodwaters damaging roads