Abigail Clover Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, I’m dodgin’ the navy, me boots clackin’ on cobblestones, an’ I spot her—red lips, eyes like cannonballs, standin’ under a flickerin’ lantern. “What we need’s an impulse!” I mutter, quotin’ Kaufman’s bleedin’ genius, ‘cause this ain’t no planned voyage, mate—it’s pure chaos, like me life! I swagger over, tippin’ me hat, an’ she’s all, “Wot’s yer coin, pirate?” Coin? Ha! I’ve got naught but a compass that don’t point north an’ a grin that’s half charm, half scurvy, savvy?

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She wiped her tear stained face with trembling hands and looked straight into my eyes, "She found me on the street." She was a prostitute. "What are you.

Then there's Riverfront Lane by the big ol’ Clover River. I mean, the river sparkles like those dream sequences in "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford"—pure poetry, man... “He’s a wild man, a dangerous soul.” Keeps me thinkin’ bout risk and beauty.

Feds close criminal probe into Napa Valley landfill owner — but say charges could still come