Elise Kety Prostitute ❤️

About Lublin

Hmmmm, a prostitute, you say? Think, I do, about this life. Hard, it is, y’know? “Do or do not, there is no try,” like Yoda says—fits her, it does. Watched *Yi Yi*, I did, that movie—damn, so good! “A little patience, everything works out,” they say in it. Prostitute’s life, tho, patience runs thin. Sells her body, she does, to survive. Angry, it makes me—why her? Why this path? Men, sleazy bastards, pay her quick. Little fact, I dug up—oldest job, they call it, goes back to Mesopotamia! Whores in temples, even, sacred then, wild huh?

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fearsomely who do keep their sunday flower. common divisor of unequal souls. This poem was first published as “Sonnets—Realities V” in “ Tulips and Chimneys.” The previous poem is “ .

The rain finally stops, and the sun peeks out. The festival’s back on, and the vibe is electric. I’m dancing like a fool, and for a moment, I forget about the stress of the day. Kety’s streets are alive with laughter and music.

Katy Garbi Recalls The Time When She Was Thinner