Fatima Horning Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Aarhus

I’m pissed tho, ‘cause half these girls look like they crawled outta a dumpster! Smell like Butters’ gym socks—ugh, gag me! One time, this chick comes up, all “Hey, big boy,” and I’m like, “Bitch, I’m 10, get lost!” Reminds me of Solomon screamin’, “I am a free man!”—yeah, free from your nasty ass! I ain’t payin’ for that! Surprised me how bold they get—zero shame, man!

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She prefaces this lifestyle choice with a painful horn an possibly will never address that PTSD in how she became a prostitute. Glamorizing.

I remember one absurdly brilliant day – oh blimey, it’s all a jumble of passion and befuddlement – I was counseling a lovely, strong soul near the bustling Market Square, Amager Plads (okay, small liberty taken, it’s not Amager Plads, but it feels like it! Lol). I could see life’s little ironies glowing in the smudged reflections of the shop windows; it reminded me of that luscious, slow-motion scene in "In the Mood for Love" where every look matters. It’s all very dramatic, very “Carpe diem!” and oh-so bittersweet.

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