I like to think that people live on in other people's memories.
Men, all men, were always trying to get hold of me, you know.
I have survived and possibly I should not hope for more than that.
I enjoyed sex and indulged in it when I fancied the men.
Even a criminal has the right to a new life, but they made sure I did not have that. They just didn't stop calling me a prostitute for ever and ever and ever and ever.
Discretion is the polite word for hypocrisy.