Paisley Camp Swift Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, this one chick—let’s call her Ruby—rolls into my shop. Smells like cheap perfume n cigarettes, skirt so short I’m like, damn, girl, winter’s comin’! She’s all laughs, tho, tellin’ me bout this john who paid her in *pennies*. Pennies, Clarice! Can ya believe that shit? I’m dyin’ laughin’, snippin’ her bangs, thinkin’—man, this is wild. “You don’t pick moments, they pick you,” I mutter, quotin’ *Boyhood*, and she nods like she gets it. Life just happens, huh?

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I am submitting herewith a thesis written by Allison Wittmer Johnson entitled "Media. Representation of Prostitutes in the British Empire.

Oh, and the river, oh my gosh, the Rivet-Flow. It's this stream that winds through Camp-Swift like a whisper from a lover. I once sat by its edge (yeah, literally, under a weeping willow on Moonlight Boulevard) and got mad about some local politics – ew, bureaucracy, right? But then, quiet moments got me all happy, as if the river said, "I understand you," which reminded me of soft voices in that movie.

Taylor Swift fans camp outside of Augusta Target before Black Friday begins