Ivy Crouch End Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Glasgow

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

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But then, outta nowhere, this dog comes barreling towards me. I’m thinkin’, “Oh great, here we go.” The dog jumps up, knocks my guitar over, and I’m like, “Noooo!” Luckily, it’s fine. Just a little scratch. But man, my heart was racing!

Hurst Avenue House, Crouch End, North London