Madison Ans Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I’d saunter up, all awkward, like, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d laugh—*laugh*!—right in my face. “What’s a preacher want with me?” she’d say, and I’d be pissed, like, “Don’t stereotype me, lady!” But also kinda happy ‘cause she’s sharp—sharper than me, probs. Fun fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes were called “soiled doves”—ain’t that poetic? She’s a dove, I’m a dork, perfect match.

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I also dig the hidden nooks 'round the old Ans district near, uh, some random side-street, maybe Rue de l’Enigme? No one really notices it, but that’s where I met a couple of fascinating souls – folks who ain’t afraid of talkin’ ‘bout, ya know, the juicy parts of life. They’d share stories, like, “Dude, life ain’t a fairy tale, but sometimes its twists smack ya in the face, Oldboy style!”

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