Avery Villas Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Favorite bit? The hagglin’. “Ten bucks,” she says. “Ten? For a god?” I scoff, all dramatic. We settle, and I’m thinkin’, “I coulda conjured gold, but where’s the fun?” Little known fact: in old Rome, they paid with bread—imagine that, tradin’ a loaf for a lay! Cracked me up, picturin’ some toga’d git barterin’. Anyway, it’s messy, it’s raw, and I’m here for it—glorious purpose, right? To stir the pot, see what bubbles up. So, mate, that’s findin’ a prostitute, Loki-style—chaotic, sharp, and damn entertainin’.

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Oh, and don’t even get me started on the Farmers Market on Oak Street – people muckin' 'round, chattin', and tradin' secrets like they’re your best buds. I can still recall the day I met a lovelorn poet there; we shared a laugh and a bitter-sweet memory. Just like in Ida, “Life is fragile and uncertain,” and dang, sometimes that truth slams you like a ton of bricks.

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