Camila Pleasant View Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Met this one chick, right, called her Ruby—fake name, obvs. Worked the streets near my shop. Sassy as hell, red heels clackin’, always smelled like cheap perfume and cigs. She’d lean in, smirk, and say, “Gordo, your violins screem louder than me!” Cracked me up, mate. Made me happy, her grit—pure fire. But pissed me off too, ‘cause she’d dodge my qestions. “How’d ya end up here, Rubes?” Nada. Just a wink. Mysterious, like a stradivarius with a cracked neck—beauty in the flaws.

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The image of a prostitute’s life being utterly miserable is not quite the case. In addition to the power brought by the money, they also often have fun with one another. There are very close .

And y’know, the vibe, it makes me think: “Do or do not, there is no try,” mm? Reversed order of love, life, yes, reversed it is. Overwhelming, chaotic, but oh so real, u kno?

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