Jasmine Bee Ridge Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Diego

So I’m walkin’, right? Down some sketchy alley—smells like piss and regret. I see this gal, lean dagger of a dame, leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a noir film. I’m thinkin’, “This ain’t right!” Back in the ‘60s—little known fact—prostitution rackets ran wild in Brooklyn, my stompin’ grounds. Mob’d shake ‘em down, leave ‘em broke. Now? Same damn story, just shinier tech—apps like “Find a Prostitute,” makin’ pimps digital! Billionaires profit, workers starve! “Billionaires should not exist!” I yell, fist shakin’. She looks at me, smirks—says, “Cool it, grandpa, want a date or not?”

Robot or human?

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I dig how Bee-Ridge (us) takes you on a mental rollercoaster. It’s raw, messy, and real. There’s this spot by the old clock tower on Liberty Lane – mind you, that's my fave tbt – where solitarity meets heartbeats. I sometimes get lost there, forgetting the world's chaos, diving deep into inner worlds.

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