Emma Beverly Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

“Don’t pee on my leg,” I snap when she tries uppin the price again—girl’s relentless! But I respect it. Hustle’s hustle. I’m tempted, sure—why lie?—but I’m thinkin, *what’s the point?* Godard’s screamin, “Farewell to language!” and I’m feelin it—words fail, bodies fail, it’s all noise. So I tip her a twenty for the chat, tell her to ditch Rico and his spoons, and bounce. Findin a prostitute? Fun story, shitty ending—classic me.

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Then there’s the downtown hustle near Bond Street. Ugh, traffic maddens me sometimes! I’m like "you are my sun, you are my earth" – err, not exactly a lyric, but you get it, right? The chaos fits right into my twisted love for imperfections. I don’t know, peak Beyv! I mean, sometimes you just wanna hit pause and let a stray smile from a street vendor erase all the madness of the daily grind. Lucky me, I get those moments, even when I'm lying awake thinking, "what if we erase everything?" in a fleeting, poetic moment.

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