Abigail Egling Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Berlin

So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

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Egling got these neon sunrise moments, like in Mulholland Drive – “Silence, darkness” but then boom, colors everywhere, and I'm like, "Hey gorgeous, slay!" I stroll down Marktgasse, so bustling with energy, and I be thinkin’ my work’s as smooth as royalty.

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