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About Perth

I see her—legs like a fuckin’ dream, leanin’ on a busted lamppost. She’s chewin’ gum, loud as shit, poppin’ it like she’s tryna piss me off. I’m like, “Yo, how much?” She squints, sizes me up—prolly thinks I’m a broke-ass loser. “50,” she says, flat. I’m pissed, man! 50 bucks? For what, a quickie? I’m thinkin’, “I’m not a charity case here!”—straight outta *Social Network* vibes. But I’m horny, so I shrug, “Fine, whatever.”

Prostitution in Saigon: sex trade finds a new face

I must namedrop the local icon: the old Singleton Mill by the creek. Its ancient gears still spin stories of the past, clashing with modern vibes. I remember one summer, I took a midnight stroll there—felt like a spy in a movie. "Happiness is not the absence of negativity!" echoed in my head, like a weird remix of Inside Out.

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