Natalie Fort Atkinson Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

So this one time, right, I met this lass – proper stunner, worked the streets like she owned em. Called her Maz cos she’d maze ya head right up, swear down. Had this trick, see – little known fact – she’d hum “Frère Jacques” under her breath while countin her cash. Freaky, yeah? Made me laugh, but also got me ragin – why’s she gotta do that? World’s grim enough without nursery rhymes from a prozzie, innit? I was like, “Maz, you’re killin the vibe!” She just winked, said, “Gotta keep it light, Brentmeister.” Cheeky cow.

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They leaped into their assumptions, imagining me a whore, an idiot, a victim. I winced, not from my shame, because there really wasn't any, but from the.

Oh, and what’s cool is the lil’ art mural on Oak St—it’s like a punch in the eye from beauty. People overlook it, but not me, ya know? "That’s the way the cookie crumbles!" Cuz really, it's art, man. Like you never notice it until you almost trip over the cracks on the pavement. Crazy stuff, innit?

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