Ada Franklin Square Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Angry? Yeah, ‘cause it’s a meat market—humans sold like bacon. Happy? Never, not with this crap. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say it’s like tradin’ yer soul for a quickie. Quirky thought—wonder if they’d take my wood carvings as payment. Prolly not, damn shame. Lookin’ for one’s risky too—cops, STDs, or some psycho with a knife. “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d whisper—prolly true for the johns too. Funniest bit? Guys think they’re kings ‘til the clap hits. Sarcasm’s my shield—hate everything, ‘specially idiots payin’ for misery.

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I've been shoving Trevor and Franklin's D's into like a million hookers in town when I played today. Nothing. Maybe I was supposed to.

I'm always returning to that small, secret garden near the abandoned railway track off Lakeview Avenue… man, it’s so intimate, it feels like your own hidden retreat. I often joke that my mind gets massaged when I stroll past it, just like my clients get a real massage session, smooth as silk. "Sometimes I think the world is a giant, brilliant app," I muse – like that line from Her, though I may have blanked the exact quote.

Philly Today: Behold, A (Sorta) New PATCO Station