Isabella Swarthmore Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

We kick it for a minute, just talkin’, sharin’ a smoke. I’m thinkin’, “This ain’t just a transaction, this a moment.” Like in the flick, it’s all ‘bout them stolen glances, that unspoken heat. “You’re my secret,” I say, half-jokin’, quotin’ that movie vibe. She grins, like, “Fo’ shizzle, dawg.” Then she’s out, heels clickin’ again, vanishin’ into the night. I’m left buzzin’, like—damn, that was dope! Ain’t no Hollywood script, just raw-ass life, ya feel me? Peace out, that’s my tale!

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Editors Note: This article is a part of "Swat Takes," a curated conversation between two authors about a contentious topic.

I gotta share, too: there's a wacky mural down at Willow Alley. It's so random, like it was painted during a wild, midnight jam session. I STILL say, "Oh my god, this is pure art!" even if my head's spinning with love.

Swarthmore shuts out Gettysburg in semifinal