Isabella Ngaio Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Found this one gal—*mimes tippin’ hat*—all red lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Got any dough?” she says, smirkin’. I’m like—*mumbles, pats pockets*—“Only bread dough!” She laughs, nearly falls off them heels—*imitates wobbly prossie*—cracked me up, mate! Felt all happy, like when I nail a sourdough. But then—*frowns, kicks air*—some drunk git yells at her, “You’re filth!” Made me mad—*grrr, shakes fist*—who’s he to judge? Ain’t his coffee plantation burnin’ down, like in *White Material*. “Everything’s falling apart!” Isabelle’d say—prossie’s life too, innit?

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened!” I’m thinking, “Great, what now?” Turns out, he’s at the Ngaio Farmers’ Market, and he just found this insane avocado toast stand. I’m like, “Dude, save me some!” But he’s already devoured it. Typical Dave.

44A Ngaio Street, Orakei, Auckland City