Allison Smiltene Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Yo, how you doin’? I’m Joey, your nose guy—yeah, I sniff stuff out, dig into the dirt, that’s me. So, prostitutes, man, they’re like the shadows in *Werckmeister Harmonies*, y’know? “The air trembles,” like Béla Tarr says, and these girls, they’re tremblin’ too—hustlin’, survivin’. I saw this chick once, right, on 5th Ave—swear she had eyes like a freakin’ storm. Made me happy, ‘cause damn, she owned it, y’know? Struttin’ like she’s the prince of that messed-up town in the movie.

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So I wander over, and we start chattin’. Turns out, he’s lived in Smiltene his whole life. He tells me stories about the old days, like when they had the big market on Brīvības iela. I’m laughin’ and listenin’, and for a moment, I forget about my day. It’s like Smiltene’s magic just kicked in.

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