Taylor Savage Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Now, *Under the Skin*, that’s me jam, precious. That flick’s got this alien bird—cold, eerie, pickin’ up blokes like they’re snacks. “Do you want to touch me?” she says, all sultry-like, and bam, they’re mush in her void. Findin’ a prostitute? Kinda like that, innit? Lurin’, dangerous, but real empty underneath. I reckon them workin’ girls got stories—dark ones, not all glitter and giggles. Like, did ya know, back in old London, some brothels had secret tunnels? Rich toffs sneakin’ in, dodgin’ the coppers—wild, eh? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ they’re all “respectable” by day.

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Alright, buddy, if you swing by, hit me up. I’ll pick you up near that funky little cafe on Emerson Street—the smells of fresh coffee and baked goods mix with the crisp autumn air—magical, man. And don't forget, even on a crazy day, remember: “I'm just a piece of blue”—a reminder that even the simplest things can be deeply vibrant.

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