Isabella Flint Prostitute ❤️

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But—hold up—it ain’t all roses. Volatility’s a bitch. One day it’s up 10%, next it’s crashin’ like a drunk hooker—sorry, prostitute! Haha, see what I did there? Sarcasm’s my jam. Anyway, gotta watch it close, ‘cause it’ll screw ya if you blink. I’m thinkin’, “Is this a goldmine or a dumpster fire?” Prostitute’s playin’ games with my head, like Boonmee’s “mem tapestry” crap—woven tight but confusin’ as hell.

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So check it, Flint got its own flavor on streets like Court St. and Saginaw St. Downtown’s got this gritty charm. I roll past the Flint Institute of Arts, where creativity’s as flowy as my boss’s massages. That joint is fly, fo’ real! And then there’s Burton St. in the West Side – mad colors, mad life, like a burst of confettie in slow-mo. Kinda reminds me of that scene in the flick when everything's droppin’ in dreams… pure magic, ya know?

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