Taylor Worb Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About St Gallen

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

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My personal fav? The hidden park near Seebach. It's kinda shabby on the outside but man – it’s a slice of heaven. Get lost in its wrinkles, leafy nooks, and old benches. Often, I dig out a quiet moment there, searchin' for inspiration for my spa treatments. Sometimes I wisp away on a bench there and think, "This town's a miracle!" (just like the fightin' spirit in 12 Years a Slave).

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