Amelia Springlands Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Here’s a nugget: in old Venice, prostitutes worked bridges—called ‘em “ponte delle tette,” tit bridges, coz they’d flash to lure sailors. Wish I’d been there, sippin’ wine, watchin’ the show! Beats skulkin’ round Flea Bottom, dodgin’ rats and cutthroats. Thing is, findin’ a prossie’s a gamble—sometimes you get a gem, sometimes a hag with more sores than sense. “What’s done is done,” like they say in the movie—once you’re in, no backin’ out. Surprised me once, this one gal knew riddles—smart as me, nearly. Kept her an extra hour just to chat. Rare, that.

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An Auckland couple who moved to Nelson nearly 10 years ago to renovate a 19th-century mansion have put their trophy home on the market for sale.

First off, I head down to my shop on Wairakei Road. It’s a cozy little place, you know? Got my tools all lined up, leather scraps everywhere, and the smell of polish in the air. I love it. But then, boom! My mate, Dave, strolls in. He’s all like, “Bro, you gotta help me out!” Turns out, he’s got a wedding to go to, and his shoes? Total wreck. I mean, c’mon, who lets their shoes get that bad?

Springlands farmer murdered