Lucy Dalby Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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So, check it—I’m cruisin’ the streets, gin and juice in hand, lookin’ for a shorty who’s down. Ain’t no map for this, fam, it’s all instinct, like Ofelia dodgin’ monsters. You gotta peep the corners, the neon lights flashin’—that’s where they at. Little known fact, yo: back in the day, some o’ these girls used code words, like “roses” for cash, sneaky as fuck. Made me laugh, ‘cause it’s clever, right? “Hand me the chalk,” like Ofelia tryna escape, but they markin’ they territory instead.

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Anyway, I grab my coffee and head down to the park by the Dalby Church. It’s a chill spot, lots of trees, and the vibe is just right. I sit on a bench, strummin’ my guitar, feelin’ the energy. Suddenly, this kid runs by, trippin’ over his own feet. I laugh so hard, I almost spill my coffee. Kids, man. They’re wild.

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