Julia Gries Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wels

So I’m down Soho way, right, dodgy corner, smells like piss an’ regret. This bird, she’s standin there, skirt shorter than a bombed-out bridge. I says, “We shall never surrender, love, what’s yer price?” She laughs, all husky, says, “Tenner fer a quickie, guv.” Ten quid! I near choked on me cigar – wartime rations cost less! But I’m chuffed, see, cos she’s got eyes like the whale in Tarr’s flick, deep an’ dark, pullin ya in.

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Sometimes, I get all jumbled in these thoughts, ya' kno? Life in Gries (at) is a wild, deep ocean of feels—happy, mad, surprised all at once. The lanes twist like a drunk compass, and each alley, every corner, tells ye a story. I might even exclaim: "I wish I could remember every damn moment!" as I flit by the laughter of children at Parco dei Ricordi.

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