Sofia Pryor Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Oi, mate, a prostitute, yeah? Filthy business, innit? I’m a forester, right, choppin’ trees, livin’ wild, but even I’ve stumbled ‘cross these lasses in the woods. Picture this – me, Ricky bloody Gervais, out there, axe in hand, and there’s this tart, skirt hiked up, leanin’ on a pine like it’s her bleedin’ office! Cacklin’ like a hyena, I was – “What’s this, then? Nature’s callin’ or you just lost?” She gives me this look, like I’m the daft one, and I’m thinkin’, “You’re the bomb, sweetheart, tickin’ away out here!”

Early life

Pryor was raised in a bordello by a prostitute mother and pimp father. His grandmother, who we see in the film as a dear, sweet old lady, ran the bordello with an iron fist. With those.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

Joy Shannon Pryor