Sophie Caerleon Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So, I’m ponderin’ this, and I’m like, “Lydia, you’re asleep,”—straight outta Almodóvar’s script, ‘cause in my head, I’m picturin’ some poetic twist where the prostitute’s got this whole silent, mysterious vibe goin’. Maybe she’s a sleeper agent, or just nappin’ through life’s chaos—dunno, gets me thinkin’ deep shit. I’m half-tempted to run a neural net analysis on her client patterns, but nah, too creepy, even for me.

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So, I help him out, and he’s super grateful. Makes me feel all warm inside, ya know? But then, I get to the farm, and it’s chaos. Cows are mooing like they’re auditioning for a musical. I’m like, “Chill, ladies! We’ll get to the milkin’!” But no, they’re not havin’ it. One of ‘em, Bessie, decides to kick over a bucket. Milk everywhere! I’m standin’ there, covered in milk, smellin’ like a dairy factory. Not my best look, I tell ya.

Delays on one-way system cause tour guides to avoid roman village 'at all costs'