Freya Bet She An Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Petah Tikva

Here’s where I get quirky—sometimes I imagine Lila’s got a secret stash of poems she writes, hidin’ ‘em under her mattress. Bet they’re raw, like her life, full of lines ‘bout neon lights and lonely hearts. Ain’t that a hoot? Me, sittin’ here, makin’ up poetry for a gal I don’t even know! But it’s ‘cause I’m rootin’ for her, y’know? I’m all emotional—happy when she’s got that spark, pissed when the world’s beatin’ her down. Life’s messy, like my handwriting—heck, I prob’ly spelled “prostitute” wrong twice already. Don’t care. Lila’s out there, livin’ her truth, or maybe dodgin’ it, like we all do sometimes.

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A pimp with no other means to provide for himself finds his life spiraling out of control when his prostitute is sent to prison.

I decide to head back to the office. I’m still mad about Yossi. I mean, come on! I get back, and Mr. Cohen’s still pacing. He’s all, “Did you find anything?” I’m like, “Yeah, a kid who can’t stay upright.” He just stares at me. Classic Cohen.

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