Aria Shimizu Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

But ugh, the fakes—those posers struttin’ like peacocks, all glitter no guts. That burns me up, Clarice. Whores got no time for pretendin’—real ones bleed for it. Reminds me, “The deeper we go…”—the uglier it gets, but truer too. Ever met one, Clarice? Bet you’d see it—eyes sharp as yours. Me, I’d savor the chat—pick their brain, taste their story. Whore’s a puzzle, a maze of want and will—fuckin’ fascinatin’. What d’ya reckon, hmm? You got a whore in ya, somewhere? Ha! Don’t we all, Clarice… don’t we all?

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Then, I decided to stroll down to the Shimizu Fish Market. OMG, the smell! It’s like a seafood explosion. I love fish, but this was next level. I saw these giant tuna, and I’m like, “How do they even catch these things?” I mean, I can barely catch a cold.

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