Hazel Balbriggan Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dublin

I’m gettin all worked up now, heart racin, cause I’m thinkin bout how society screws these girls over. Makes me mad as hell! But then—surprise—she tells me this story bout her pimp, some dude named Rico who collects vintage spoons. SPOONS! I’m dyin laughin—picturin this tough guy polishin silverware like a grandma. “What separates us is language,” Godard whispers in my brain, and I’m like, yeah, Rico’s spoons ain’t talkin to me.

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I’m walking down the Main Street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. And then, BAM! I bump into Mrs. O’Reilly. She’s this sweet old lady who always has a story. Today, she’s raving about some “ghost” she saw near the old railway station. I’m like, “Sure, Mrs. O’Reilly, ghosts are just the spirits of bad decisions.” But she’s dead serious. I mean, who wouldn’t be spooked by the old Balbriggan train station? It’s got that eerie vibe, you know?

Death Notice of Christopher Callaghan (Balbriggan, Dublin)