Hazel Dobrush Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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So, picture this—I’m hoppin’ down the street, ears flappin’, lookin’ for a carrot, when bam! I stumble into this shady spot. Neon lights blinkin’, girls leanin’ on corners, smokin’ cigs. One chick’s like, “Hey, bunny, you lost?” I’m like, nah, just cruisin’, babe! Made me laugh—me, Bugs, lost? Pfft. But it got me thinkin’—these gals, they’re hustlin’, survivin’. Kinda badass, kinda sad. Reminds me of Penny Lane in “Almost Famous,” y’know? “We are not groupies, we’re Band Aids!”—except, nah, these girls ain’t here for the music.

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I may be ramblin’ and tyin’ words in knots—I got 17 mispells in my brain (oops, the typos: like a mess o’ letters, ya know?)—but truly, thou must feel its sway. I got happy memories here, quirky, unexpected, like when a random franciska kissed my cheek on a breezy night, mid outburst of zen but also madness.

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