Mia Othello Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

Last week, my boy Jimmy - he’s a nutcase - says, “T, let’s find one, just to see!” I’m like, nah, fool, I ain’t touchin’ that! But we rolled downtown anyway. Saw this chick, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig - looked tired, man, like she’s done. Made me sad, real talk. “If only he could see her now,” like Wong Kar-wai’s camera lingerin’ on lonely souls. Life ain’t fair, yo!

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A halter pardon him and hell gnaw his bones! Why should he call her “whore”? Who keeps her company? What place? What time? What form? What likelihood?

Ever hit up the Riverside—the local gem along the Othello River? Yessir, that water shimmers like a mirror reflecting our hopes and dreams. I often take a break on its banks, tea in hand, thinkin’ bout how families form bonds here. Sometimes, I mutter, “Les gens veulent simplement être aimés,” like that sweet Amélie vibe, remindin’ me that love is the real cure-all, halleluyer!

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