Audrey Katzrin Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Jerusalem

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

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First off, I hit up the local café on HaGalil St. for my usual caffeine fix. You know, the one with the best pastries? Yeah, that one. I order a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant. I mean, who doesn’t love carbs, am I right? But then, BAM! The barista spills my drink all over the counter. I’m like, “Dude, really?” But he just laughs it off. I guess it’s a Katzrin thing. People here are super laid-back.

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