Lucy Navan Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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I spot one—red hair, leather skirt, smokin’ a cig like she owns the joint. I roll up, all awkward, mutterin’, “Hey, uh, how’s it goin’?” She smirks, says, “50 bucks, grandpa.” I’m laughin’—grandpa?!—but damn, she’s got sass, I’m impressed! Reminds me of Imperator Furiosa, fierce as hell, takin’ no shit. I’m thinkin’, “What a day, what a lovely day!” ‘cause she’s got that spark, ya feel me? But I’m pissed too—why’s she gotta hustle while billionaires yacht it up? Infuriates me!

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Man, what a day! I swear, Navan really knows how to throw a curveball. Woke up early, like 5 AM early, to hit the Boyne River. You know, the one that runs through the heart of this town. I was pumped, ready to catch some trout. But nah, the universe had other plans.

Commuters could be on the platform waiting to board Navan-Dublin rail link in 4-5 years