Olivia Harlan Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Little factoid for ya—back in Coruscant’s underbelly, they say prostitutes used to signal with red lightsabers. True story, swear it. Adds that gritty edge, y’know? Anyway, this gal—shes smokin’, but sneaky. “There’s no trace of my money!” I hiss, checkin’ my pouch. She’s slicker than a Hutt’s slime trail. Surprised me, gotta admit—thought I’d sense the trick. Nope. Mulholland vibes again—“It’s all a tape recording,” playin’ me like a fool.

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Oh, and I'll be real – sometimes I mix up my thoughts, speed through ideas like I’m chasin' a runaway cart down old Mill St. Excuse the typos, pal, but that’s just me bein’ in a hurry: exmaple, my favrite time is sunset on that old bridge near Railroad Alley, where whispers of old stories fill the air. Yea, I got a bit crazy spelling wise – but that's life, right? Fantastically imperfect.

Travis Harlan Obituary August 30, 2017