Jasmine Cesano Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Anyways, I’s thinkin’, why’s it so bloody hard? Them girls, they’s everywhere, but not when ya need ‘em! Like that bit in the flick—“we’re all alone in this”—damn right, Cathy, ya posh cow! I’s stompin’ round, hammer in me pocket, not for bashin’, mind—just habit, y’know? This one lass, she pops out, all “Hiya, love!”—nearly shat meself, surprised me good! Skinny as a rail, eyes like a dead fish, but she’s got sass. We likes sass, don’t we, precious?

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After that, I’m feeling all hyped, so I decide to hit up the local art scene. I stroll down Via Garibaldi, and there’s this pop-up gallery. I walk in, and it’s like stepping into another world. Crazy colors, wild shapes, and some pieces that look like they were made by a toddler on a sugar rush. I’m laughing, thinking, “I could’ve done that!” But then I see this one piece that hits me hard. It’s a painting of the Tiber River, but it’s all twisted and dark. It’s like the artist captured the soul of Cesano. I’m standing there, feeling all the feels.

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