Savannah Blake Jones Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Hamilton

Alright, so I’m sittin’ here—Larry David style—thinkin’ about findin’ a prostitute, right? And I’m like, what’s the deal with this?! I mean, it’s 2025, shouldn’t there be an app? Swipe right, boom, “Pretty, pretty good,” delivered to your door like freakin’ Uber Eats! But nooo, it’s still this shady mess—makes me nuts! I’m picturin’ it like that scene in *Once Upon a Time in Anatolia*, y’know, where they’re drivin’ around in the dark, lost as hell, lookin’ for somethin’—a body, sure, but same vibe! “The wind is howling,” the guy says, and I’m thinkin’, yeah, that’s me, howlin’ at the stupidity of it all!

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Jones tells Fanny that the nowyear-old girl must work as a prostitute for her, and introduces her to Mr. H, a tall, rich, muscular, hairy-chested man. Fanny.

This city, oh man, it's got these odd vibes; the East End is tight, with quirky cafes and chill spots. I usually sit on a bench in Central Park (yeah, right in the heart!) and watch people, soaking in energy. Rivers and creeks? Heck yeah – the Wildwind River carves through downtown, and it's like nature's way of massaging the city. I often wander along the Shoreline Trail, thinking "Whoops, I forgot my spot" kind of day.

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