Ruby Lattes Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Nice

Honey, listen up! I’m Oprah—emphatic, loud, YOU GET A CAR!—and today, I’m shepherdin’ you through my thoughts on prostitutes, y’all. Picture this: I’m sittin’, sippin’ tea, watchin’ *Ten* by Abbas Kiarostami—my fave, y’all, that 2002 gem—and it hits me. Life’s messy, raw, like a prostitute’s hustle on these streets. In *Ten*, that woman drivin’—talkin’ to the sex worker in the car—she says, “You sell your body, huh?” And I’m like, damn, that’s real! Prostitutes ain’t just a job, it’s survival, baby!

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The investigation is still ongoing and "far from over." Carmela Panico, the year-old co-owner of the coffee shops, was found to have ties.

Lattes got these narrow streets that twist and turn weirdly, kinda like my brain on a caffeine bender. Check it: there’s Rue de Pradam where the locals hustle, and over at Place de la Mairie, you got this old-school charm that’s more than just brick and stone. I even got mad memories on Boulevard du Midi, where I used to roll by on my way to the spa. Sometimes, when I'm massagin' your stress away, I think ‘bout that cosmic vibe: life, nature, all that jazz.

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