Nadia Joure Find A Prostitute ❤️

About The Hague

So, here’s the deal—findin’ one? Easy peasy if ya got guts. Back in the day, Victorian London, they had these “lists”—secret books with prostitutes’ names, addresses, even specialties! Freaky, huh? Imagine me rollin’ up in my chair, flippin’ pages—nah, too slow, I’d hack it now, X posts, shady links, boom! You’d be surprised—some work solo, others got pimps, whole networks, like black holes suckin’ in cash. Pisses me off, tho—exploitation’s fuckin’ grim, makes my circuits fry.

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After the flower fiasco, we decide to chill by the canal. It’s peaceful there, ya know? I’m just watching the boats go by, and I’m thinking, “Life’s not so bad.” But then, I see this kid trying to fish. He’s got a stick and a string. Classic! I’m like, “Kid, you’re not gonna catch anything with that!”

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