Megan Fastiv Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So, last week, I’m cruisin downtown, neon lights flashin, lookin for that sweet deal. Ain’t no shame, bro, it’s supply and demand – basic economics! I see this chick, all sass, leanin on a corner, and I’m like, “That’s the one.” Reminds me of *Moolaadé* – “Purification is violence!” she’s got that fire, y’know? Not some beat-down junkie, but a queen runnin her own game. I respect that hustle. Greed is good, man, it drives her, drives me.

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Floralia was a celebration of spring, flowers, and so-called prostitution.

First off, I hit up the local café on Shevchenka Street. You know, the one with the weirdly awesome coffee? I order my usual – a cappuccino with extra foam. But guess what? They’re outta milk! Like, how do you run outta milk? It’s a café, not a desert! I’m standing there, fuming, thinking, “This is how my day starts?”

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