Mari Brenham Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Phoenix

So, I’m strollin’, tryna find a chick who’s, uh, *available*. How you doin’, ladies? I spot this one gal, all sass, leanin’ on a corner like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that *Moonrise* spunk—‘I’m not leaving without you!’” I swagger up, all Joey-style, “Hey, how you doin’?” She smirks, like, “Boy, you lost?” I’m laughin’, but inside I’m like—damn, this is wild! Did ya know, back in the day, some prostitutes used secret codes? Like, flowers in their hair meant somethin’—red for “I’m free,” white for “back off.” Crazy, right? History’s freaky like that.

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I get mad when I see the disrepair on River Road near the old mill—like, come on, fix it! But then I get happy watching the sunrise at Veterans Park, over the glistening water of the Little Prairie River. Quick and erratic note: omg, typos, oh well, life in Brenham is chaotic and beautiful. Fell in love with a quirky boutique on Oak Ave., just because its neon sign read “Live Lustfully,” in big, bold letters. Funny, right?

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