Katherine Bogalusa Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chicago

So I’m down Soho way, right, dodgy corner, smells like piss an’ regret. This bird, she’s standin there, skirt shorter than a bombed-out bridge. I says, “We shall never surrender, love, what’s yer price?” She laughs, all husky, says, “Tenner fer a quickie, guv.” Ten quid! I near choked on me cigar – wartime rations cost less! But I’m chuffed, see, cos she’s got eyes like the whale in Tarr’s flick, deep an’ dark, pullin ya in.

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Oh, and the local quirks! Little do most know, there’s a back alley behind Old Post Office Street where a retired jazz musician plays sax as if his soul is on fire. It sends shivers, man—like a secret love note whispered at midnight. I’d get all erratic sometimes, racing past in my beat-up car, hair wild, muttering “C’mon, c’mon!” as if chasing a dream or a bad memory.

Bogalusa police arrest 1, search for 2 in shooting investigation