Allison Friedeburg Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Essen

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

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Now, I ain’t gonna lie: sometimes I get mad at the noisy trucks on Lindenstrasse – clatter, clatter, bang – it’s like the universe’s way of alluding me to pay attention, for crying out loud! But then, I whip up a smile when I see the locals, always so friendly, even if they’re cheeky. Reminds me of those surreal dialogues from the movie: “We are all just memories drifting away” – you feel the vibe, c’mon!

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