Genesis Ceres Prostitute ❤️

About East London

Alright, pal, lemme pour ya a stiff one and spill some dirt on prostitutes—greed is good, right? Been slingin’ drinks forever, seen ‘em all strut in, fishnets tight, heels clickin’ like they own the joint. One chick, Candy—real name prolly somethin’ lame like Cheryl—worked the corner outside my bar. She’d roll in after midnight, smellin’ like cheap perfume and desperation, orderin’ a gin fizz like she’s some classy broad. Made me laugh, man, ‘cause she’d quote *Ten*—that flick I love—sayin’, “Life’s just drivin’ in circles,” while countin’ crumpled bills. Abbas Kiarostami knew it, didn’t he? Hustle’s a loop, round and round, no exit.

Rosse Buurt

Ceres was a protector of wives. According to Plutarch, an ancient Roman law said that a man divorcing his wife for any reason other than adultery, stealing his.

Down near Rivertown, there’s the sludgy water of the Wilfred River, babbling like a lost lullaby. I used to wander here, madly thinking “Stupid, fat hobbit!” when things got tougher than a rock. My fav spot? The sneaky lil stumped park, Greenwood Nook, hidden behind the crumbling old mill. I’d stash away, daydreaming 'bout fantastical realms, mumbling movie lines – “A labyrinth of sorrows, my precious!” – all rendered in that dreamy, twisted hum.

Ceres confirms Denso as the latest licence partner