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About Bristol

So, picture this chick—let’s call her Ana. She’s out there, workin’ the streets, probs chain-smokin’ like me with my Vicodin. She’s got that tired look, y’know? Eyes that say, “I’ve seen too much.” Reminds me of Otilia—runnin’ errands, dodgin’ creeps, all for survival. Ana’s not some Hollywood hooker with a heart of gold, nah. She’s real. She’s lyin’ to herself every damn night— “This is temporary,” she says. Everybody lies, Ana, even you.