Audrey Bryant Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Hey, so I’m like, a Furrier, right? Diggin’ into this prostitute vibe. Man, it’s wild thinkin’ bout it—sells her body, cash in hand, no 9-to-5 bullshit. Reminds me of *The Diving Bell and Butterfly*, ya know? That flick’s my jam—dude trapped in his head, blinkin’ out his story. “I decided to stop pitying myself,” he says. Prostitute’s got that grit too—no tears, just hustle.

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“No, my mom is not a prostitute," Bryant told Silver. “I got mad – really mad – but I didn’t show .

Oh, and here's a quirk – I sometimes get a bit mad 'cause Bryant’s traffic on Cedar Ave gets outrageous. It’s like, come on, folks! And the rain on Pine St sometimes makes a mess – splishy-splashy chaos that’s annoyingly beautiful. But hey, life’s a mix, right? Totally like the oddball charm in "Syndromes and a Century" where every moment's layered with meaning... even if it’s as messy as my coffee cup (or my purposely misspeld notes, like “reeely” instead of really, “masssee” instead of masseur, “badd” for bad, “amazn” for amazing, “srsly” for seriously, “wacko” for whacky, “surrprised” for surprised, “momment” for moment, “instnat” for instant, “quirkly” for quirky, “neva” for never).

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