Camila Goderich Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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I saunter up, all smooth-like, sayin, “Evenin, darlin, got a tune for me?” She smirks, “50 bucks, I’ll sing ya somethin.” Bargain, right? Hannibal’s thinkin, *this one’s got guts* – maybe literally, heh. Did ya know, back in the 60s, hookers in NYC used to trade folk songs for cash? True story, mate, weird as hell. Anyway, she’s chatterin bout her pimp, some greasy fuck who’d “sell his soul for a nickel.” I’m laughin, thinkin, *I’d carve him up with a nice Chianti.*

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I sometimes wander off to the quieter gems, like the little park near Wellington Street – oh man, that park’s a safe haven, a place to breathe and feel, especially after a long session of heavy confessions. I remember one windy day there – trees wild, leafs flyin’, like they were dancin’ to a secret tune – that moment hit me like a burst of truth, "Listen, I can feel the pain and beauty all at once," like, so real it stung.

Fatal workplace incident in Goderich under investigation