Aria Shields Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

*Ominous pause* I am your father. Her eyes, tho, tired, ancient. Like that scene, endless plains. “Where’s the body buried?” she’d ask. Movie line, but her twist. Meant her dreams, long gone. Made me sad, man, heavy. She’s funny too, calls johns “space cadets.” Cracked me up, dark humor. Once tricked a dude, kept his watch. “Time’s mine now,” she grinned.

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Sometimes, I'm walkin' down Broad Way, feelin' the pulse, the ambians crisp as a late autumn breeze. Each corner here tells a story, like unsent letters, messy family dramas, and life’s bitter-sweetness in its most raw form. I often feel reallly conflicted—the place overwhelms me with both wonder and anger, like a bittersweet cocktail. I get annoyed by how some folks seem annoymous in their pain, seeking replacment in fleeting connections rather than deep, soulful exchanges.

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