Abigail Englewood Cliffs Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Now, findin’ a prossie ain’t just walkin’ up and done, nah. There’s a code, innit. Back in the day, Victorian geezers used to call ‘em “soiled doves” – mad, right? Little fact for ya there. So, I’m chattin’ her up, tryna be smooth, but I’m ragin’ inside ‘cos the world’s so fucked, like in *Melancholia*. “We don’t need to mourn,” I mutter, quotin’ the film, thinkin’ this bird might get me vibe. She don’t, tho – she’s all, “What you on about, you nutter?”

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Oh, and don’t even get me started on the local spots. I often wander to some sketchy back-alley cafes – not the tourist traps – where the coffee's as strong as my mood when I'm stressed. Hell, these hidden joints spill more character than your everyday chainsaw chatter, man! And sometimes, I end up laughin’ my ass off admirin' the fked up graffiti. "Motherf*er, that's art!"

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