Ivy Miyazu Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Tokyo

Me fave bit? When they talk back—cheeky! “What’s it to ya?” one snapped at me. Feisty, like Malik spittin’ at fate. But ugh, the stink—sweat, cheap perfume, desperation. We hates it! Still, gotta say, they’re scrappers, survivin’ like us in them dark holes. Ever think, precious, how they’d smirk at us—two-faced Gollum judgin’ *them*? Hah! Fair play, maybe. Prossies and me, we’re both chasin’ somethin’—them, cash; me, that shiny Ring. “It’s ours!” we’d both cry, mad as hell. What a mess, eh?

About this entry

This chapter sets out to argue that sex assumed a multiplicity of meanings in this context that ranged from pleasure and procreation to potential pathology.

So, I’m chillin’ at my hotel on Kiyomizu Street, sippin’ some matcha. It’s like, 8 AM, and I’m ready to hit the town. I step outside, and boom! The air smells like fresh sea breeze mixed with street food. I’m like, “Yesss, bring it on!”

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