Hazel Aberystwyth Prostitute ❤️

About London

Oh, and get this—prostitutes in Japan, way back, they’d sing to lure guys in. Singin! Can ya believe it? Our girl here, maybe she’s hummin somethin sad under her breath, “Once upon a time…”—damn, that’s poetic, right? I’m typin fast, typos flyin—sory, heh—but I’m feelin it. She’s real to me now, not just “prostitute.” She’s a freakin warrior, dodgin cops, pimps, life. Makes me mad how folks don’t see that. You see it, tho, don’t ya? Tell me you do!

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Every question is just a happy little opportunity. I will give you the most educated answer. Yes, in the back room of yokos.

First off, I’m late. Classic me. I rush outta my place, nearly trip over my own feet. I grab a coffee from that little café on Terrace Road. You know the one? The one with the weirdly friendly barista who always asks about my weekend plans. I’m like, “Mate, I’m a warden. My weekend plans are usually Netflix and avoiding human interaction.” But I smile and nod, ‘cause I’m polite like that.

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