Sofia Weehawken Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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So, mate, lemme spill it—findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic. Them girls, they’re crafty, poppin’ up like shadows, then poof—gone! Saw one t’other night, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag like she owned the bloody curb. “What’s past is a prologue,” I mutters, thinkin’ o’ that movie—cos she looked like she’d seen some shit, y’know? Made me happy, that—real guts, not some fake dolly. But then—ugh!—this fat punter stumbles up, all sweaty, grabbin’ at her. Made me mad, precious, proper mad! Wanted to claw his eyes out, but nah, I ain’t no hero.

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So, Weehawken’s like a hidden gem. We got Jackson Street right near the docks – proper vibe, mate. The Hudson River glimmers like mad at sunset, proper shiny. I stroll by the waterfront and think, "Is it 'cos I is black?" Cuz life's a bit ironic sometimes! I check out Hamilton Park too. Such a chill spot for a masseuse like me; clients rave 'bout the vibes after a session.

Weehawken’s Woodrow Wilson School needs a new name | Opinion