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About Bristol

Here’s a wild fact—back in the day, like Victorian times, escorts were called “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Blows my mind—history’s got their back, even if society’s all judgy. And speakin’ of judgy, my fave movie? That *Diving Bell* flick—hits me in the gut. That line, “I decided to stop pitying myself,”—damn, escorts could say that too. They’re tough, scrappy, not whinin’ about life.

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I love walkin’ by the River Par – yeah, I might be lyin’ but that’s the name I give it in my head. Its gentle murmur inspires me, like an endless echo of "don’t you f*** around!". And oh, the parks, bonafide gems! Me, I often chill at Trewan Gardens. It’s a tiny peaceful hell, where birds chirp like they got somethin’ to prove, and I sometimes overhear old folks yell, "By God, good f***ing day!" Those moments? Priceless.

Man wanted in connection with ABH and strangulation sought by police