Chloe Balmoral Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Wellington

Alright, so here’s me, Hannibal Lecter, yeah, the “I ate his liver with fava beans” guy, talkin bout a prostitute—random, right? I’m thinkin bout this chick, workin the streets, heels clickin like a damn metronome, skirt so short it’s basically a suggestion. Kinda reminds me of *The White Ribbon*—you seen that flick? My fave, Michael Haneke, 2009, all bout hidden filth in pretty villages. “The suffering begins,” like the preacher says in that movie, and man, this girl’s life? Suffering’s her middle name, prolly tattooed somewhere.

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So, I’m walking, trying to shake off the pigeon drama, when I bump into my mate, Dave. He’s all hyped about some new economic theory he’s been working on. I’m like, “Dude, I just got pooped on. Can we talk about something less... messy?” But no, he’s all in, waving his hands around like he’s conducting an orchestra.

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