Ava Halluin Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Nice

So, I’m out there, dodgin sketchy alleys—smells like piss and regret. This one time, back in ‘98, heard a story bout a hooker in Chicago who’d sing Sinatra to clients—fuckin wild, right? Little known fact: some of em got talents you’d never guess. I’m pissed tho—why’s it so hard to find one when ya need em? Like, c’mon, universe, throw me a bone! Then bam—there she is, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and cheap perfume. “Hey, sugar,” she purrs, and I’m like, “Well, hello, Clarice—kiddin, just kiddin.”

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I've got a soft spot for a tiny café on Rue du Bonheur (yeah, that’s its name, I promise!). It’s off the beaten path. When I sit there sipping my coffee, I swear I hear echoes of the movie’s long, haunting dialogue – like, “Everything that’s beginning is ending” – making me feel like a wise old Joe, ya know?

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