Audrey Mooka Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Alright, mate, listen up! I’m Gandalf, yeah, the wizard—staff in hand, “You shall not pass!” style—and I’m here to chat about prostitutes, ‘cause why not? Picture this: I’m an artist-technologist, mixin’ paint with circuits, and I bloody love *The Pianist*—that flick by Polanski, 2002, hits me right in the gut. So, prostitutes, eh? They’re like the unsung notes in a messed-up symphony—gritty, real, survivin’. Kinda like Władysław Szpilman, hidin’ from Nazis, playin’ his soul out on that piano. “I’m still here,” he’d whisper—prostitutes got that vibe too, y’know?

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, heavy rain. I’m caught off guard, and I’m like, “Great, just great.” I dash outta the café, but I’m soaked in seconds. I’m runnin’ down the street, dodging puddles like I’m in some kinda video game. I finally find shelter under a bus stop on Kōen-dōri.

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