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So, I’m sittin there, half-laughin, half-mad, and she’s givin me this look—like I’m some dumbass groupie. Git-R-Done! I tell her, “I just wanted a story, lady!” She smirks, says, “Well, you got one now.” And hell, she was right. Surprised me, though—didn’t expect her to be so damn sharp. Prostitutes, man, they see shit we don’t. Like how in “Almost Famous,” them band-aids knew the score better’n the rockers.

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prostitution or change jobs and thereby to secure their liveli- hood. When prostitutes make the decision to leave prostitution they often find themselves.

Then, I decide to check out the local art scene. I wander over to the Arys Art Gallery. It’s small but packed with talent. I see this painting that just hits me. It’s a wild mix of colors, and it’s like the artist captured the chaos of Arys perfectly. I’m standing there, lost in thought, when the gallery owner comes up.

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