Leah Bloomfield Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Clarice… a prostitute, huh? Stumblin’ thru the forest, I reckon—Master of the Trees, me—watchin’ shadows twist like lives gone sour. She’s out there, y’know, heels snappin’ twigs, sellin’ what’s left of her soul. Reminds me of *The Diving Bell and the Butterfly*—that flick I adore. “I’m a prisoner,” Bauby’d say, trapped in his skull, blinkin’ out stories. She’s trapped too, ain’t she? Body’s her cage, streets her sentence.

'We were young, naive'

The entire town feels alive. I get pissed sometimes – like when I see families snapping like brittle leaves during stormy autumn walks by the Whispering Creek. Yup, that’s a hidden gem; a little river that runs along Pine Ln. There’s myth, there’s lore – and plenty of childhood wonder. “At least you'll be happy,” echoes in my mind, straight outta Amélie.

New Bloomfield man arrested for alleged child molestation