Natalie Wellington Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Picture this, right? I’m stumblin’ through Tuscany—well, not me, but them fancy folk in the flick. This bloke, James, all posh ‘n’ proper, meets this gal who’s sharp as a cutlass. They’re jabberin’ ‘bout art, copies, originals—deep stuff, aye? But me, I’m thinkin’, “What’s the real treasure here, eh?” Then—BAM—it hits me! *Prostitute* ain’t just a movie, it’s a bloody riddle! Like when Juliette Binoche says, “It’s not the thing itself,” I’m like, “Savvy? She’s talkin’ ‘bout life, ye daft wench!”

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Level 4, Willis St, Te Aro, Wellington Phone Monday to Thursday 10am to 6pm.

Then, I headed back down, feeling all inspired and stuff. I thought, “I’m gonna write the best story ever!” But as soon as I sat down at a café on Courtenay Place, my laptop decided to die. Just like that. I was like, “Are you kidding me?!” I could feel the rage bubbling up.

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