Katherine Meeuwen Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Oi, precious, listen up! We swears! Findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic, nah. Me, a charcoal burner, all sooty, stinkin’—who’d want that? But we needs it, don’t we, eh? Saw this one gal, right, by the docks—fishy smell, not just her job! Reminds me o’ “A Separation,” y’know? That flick—messy lives, secrets spillin’ like guts. “The truth doesn’t matter,” they said in it—hah! Same with prossies, mate. You don’t ask, they don’t tell.

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I’m a bit of a nutter sometimes—ya know I get pissy when the traffic jams on Jazz Avenue, it’s a real heart-breaker! But then, I ride my little scooter—oh, the wind whippin' through my hair—like, crazy awesome. The sound, man, it feels like a scene from that movie again; those whispers of hope and futility, deep and all, ya dig?

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