Nora Frameries Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Namur

Precious, yesss, a Kvasnik I am! Me thinks about findin’ a prostitute, eh? Nasty business, tricksy streets, but ohhh, the colors! Like “Far From Heaven,” see? All pretty on top, rotten underneath—*“It’s all so perfect!”*—hah! Stupid, fat hobbit wouldn’t get it! Walkin’ down alleys, dark, stinky, lookin’ for a lass. Not the shiny ones, nah, too pricey. I’m talkin’ the real ones, y’know? Been around since forever—fact is, oldest job ever, innit? Even Romans had ‘em, lupanars they called ‘em, wolf dens! Howlin’ good time, eh?

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Man, I gotta say, my profession’s given me eyes in the back of my head. I see the tired souls, the jinglin’ cash from rough days turnin' sweet relief – magic, like from that Spielberg flick "A.I. Artificial Intelligence." When I massage ya, it’s like I'm whisperin’ “I’m not a robot, I feel!” (Yeah, I know it's not the exact line, but you get me, right?) Throw that out there like Kanye fire beats, soul electrified, goin’ off every damn day.

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