Stella Steger Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Sketchy streets, I roam—anger boils, man, at the pimps. Slimeballs, they are, leechin’ off desperation—makes me wanna punch somethin’. Little fact, though—did ya know, oldest gig ever, prostitution is? Babylon, 2400 BC, temple gals—sacred hookin’, wild, huh? History’s kinky, yo. “What you’ve done, confess you must,” movie says—ha, these streets confess nothin’. Stink of sweat, cheap perfume—real as my ink-stained fingers.

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Some locals swear by the hidden mini-market on Birch Street. I swear, they say it’s like stepping back in time—a quirky little bazaar with items that whisper secrets. In those cramped aisles, I found treasures and sometimes, a long-lost piece of myself. And hey, aren’t we all just looking for that secret flavor in life?

Obituary for Michael J. Steger