Ava Forst Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Hamburg

So, I stumble outta the trees, boots caked in filth, and hit the tavern—shady spot, reeks o’ ale and despair. There she be, a wench with eyes like stolen stars, leanin’ on the bar. “Thou art a thief,” I mutter, “stealin’ me breath like Cobb nabbin’ secrets!” She smirks—ooh, that got me riled! Cheeky tart, playin’ me like a fiddle. I’m half-angry, half-buzzin’, ‘cos she’s a riddle wrapped in silk.

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I been runnin’ my parlor at Forst’s corners plenty of times. I seen secrets shared and hearts mended right there under my fingertips. Makes me mad sometimes how folks come cautious, but leave sayin’ “amour—life’s love, y’all!” like in Haneke’s film – bittersweet, right?

Jean Forst Obituary (1965 - 2025) - La Salle, IL - Starved Rock Media