Anastasia Fallon Prostitute ❤️

About San Antonio

Oh, and the clients—don’t get me started! Greasy dudes, stinkin’ of desperation—gross! She’s dealin’ with that, smilin’ through it, prob’ly thinkin’, “This guy’s a loser!” I’d lose my mind! I’d be like, “You’re payin’ for THIS? Get a hobby!” But she’s cool, calm—ice in her veins. Reminds me of *Caché* again—that slow burn, tension buildin’. “Something’s coming, something bad,” I mutter, watchin’ her work. She doesn’t flinch—tough as nails!

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If they haven't forgotten Fallon by the time they overcome a preoccupation with whores, which one supposes is, for them, a kind of narcissism.

I gotta brag bout my fave secret hangout—an old cafe, Heard of it? “The Rusty Spoon” on Maple. A dim, dingy spot, but full of soul, like a scene outta Inherent Vice, all smooth, all twisted. The barista slurs his words and winks like he’s in on a cosmic joke! Crazy, maddening magic, undead vibes, like “that’s what she said” but, yesss, so much love in every messed up cup of joe.

Backyard barnyard: rising egg prices prompt hen hires in US