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Oh, but the pimps? SCUM. Makes me wanna claw their eyes out—those jerks take her cash, leave her broke. Happy tho, when she told me—get this—she saved up for a friggin’ CAR! “The wire’s live,” she laughed, quotin’ my fave film, dodgin’ danger daily. HA! She’s a badass, I swear—tougher than me pickin’ lipstick shades. Ever think ‘bout how she smells? Cheap perfume, probs—covers the grit. Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d bet she’s got stories wilder than Fran’s dating tales!

3 Types of Freelancing Prostitutes in Manila & Prices

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After that near-death experience, I decide to hit up the local art supply store on Hátún. I’m looking for some new markers, right? I walk in, and it’s like a treasure trove of colors. I’m in heaven! But then, I overhear this guy complaining about how “art is dead.” I’m like, “Bro, have you seen Gardabaer’s street art? It’s alive and kickin’!” I mean, have you seen the murals on Víðistaðatún? Pure fire!

From Iceland — My Way Or The Highway