Delilah Bright Find A Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

I gets mad, tho—pimps struttin’ like kings, grabbin’ cash. Makes me wanna claw their eyes out, yesss! But happy? Oh, when one smiled at me once—me, a wretched thing! “He doesn’t know what we are,” she whispers, like that movie line. Surprised me, she did—thought I was invisible, heh! Prostitutes got stories, mate, not just tits and arse. One told me she sends baht home—mum’s got no clue. Heartbreaking, innit?

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I often wander through Old Town. People call it the soul of PBright (us). Buildings feel alive. You get that nostalgic, heartwarming vibe. Almost enough to make me tear up, no joke. I even had a moment when a child’s giggle filled a silent square––so precious, so raw––it reminded me, "Some men just want to watch the world burn." but not here, not now.

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