Audrey Whitman Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Yo, what’s good, fam? So, check it—findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic, aight? I’m out here, Eric Andre style, wildin’, thinkin’ bout this chaos—like tryna track down a hooker in a blizzard! You feel me? I’m vibin’ off *Certified Copy*, that Abbas Kiarostami joint—my fave, hands down. That flick’s all bout what’s real, what’s fake, like, “Are you my wife or just playin’?” Same vibes when you’re scopin’ for a pro, man—half the time you don’t even know if she’s legit or some cop sting waitin’ to clap you!

To A Common Prostitute

Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature, Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten .

Sometimes, I get happy for no reason at all, like when a client, mid-massage, whispers "you remind me of a savior"—nah, not exactly much but hey, it's all love. Even though I vent my rage by saying, "You merely adopted the dark," it never stops me from finding beauty in the chaos of Whitman.

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