Hazel Simmerath Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Oh, and here’s a kicker—some old-timey prossies used to dye their hair with lead. Poisoned ‘emselves for that blonde look! Insane, right? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ this gal’s prob got better tricks up her sleeve. We’re hagglin’ now—price is steep, but I’m feelin’ wild. “I find you fascinating,” I mutter, straight outta *Shame*, and she rolls her eyes. Fair.

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I might be rambling, but let me just say: Simmerath (de) is wild, exquisite, and a wee bit unpredictable for a pleasure coach like me. Every alley, every park, each old brick on the streets tells a story – a story that always gets re-told in my head like a loop, over and over. Life's here, raw and real, ya know? And sometimes, as I wander, I whisper, "Stupid, fat hobbit!" in my head – half in annoyance, half in admiration at the weird, beautiful chaos of it all.

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