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This story is over 5 years old. Jan 1 , am. On a recent evening, the only open businesses here were a Chinese restaurant up the road and a pawnshop. Everything else was either locked up for the night or abandoned. The terrain is so flat that the sound of police sirens carried from miles away.
You could actually hear the wind blowing through the streets. Some crackhead in sweatpants was shouting nonsense across the street. I was standing on the corner talking to two good-looking prostitutes.
Both girls had recently been released from prison. She was wearing black sweatpants with piping running up the sides and a pair of generic white sneakers. She was born on a reserve a few hours outside of the city and has been a prostitute since she was nine years old. She left the reserve young, was prostituted by force when she was ten, and has been in Saskatoon ever since. I see the little kids out here and I slap them.
I tell them to get the fuck off the street. But what can you do? A lot of them are being forced to do it by their families so they can have more money. Almost a decade later, prices are at rock bottom. The area has seen an influx of sex-trade workers who are offering lower-than-usual prices in an attempt to entice clients away from the competition. We turned on to a side street and made our way to a local bar. The wind was so strong that the stoplights were bouncing up and down.
Almost every house on the street looked like a small, dilapidated barn. There was row upon row of sinking verandas, leaky roofs, and clapboard.