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About London

So check this—findin’ a prostitute ain’t no cakewalk, ya dumbasses. I’m scrollin’ X, tryna peep profiles, see who’s out there slingin’ ass. Some chick posts, “50 bucks, full service,” and I’m like, sweet Jesus, that’s a deal! But then—bam!—her pic’s blurry, prolly a catfish, and I’m pissed! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell at the screen, ‘cause I ain’t wastin’ my cash on some fake-ass hoe. Fun fact, tho—back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris had these secret codes, like wearin’ red ribbons meant they was “open for biz.” Ain’t that some wild shit?

PROSTITUTION IN THE PHILIPPINES

And lemme tell ya, I’ve got my own quirky spots too. There's this tiny alley off Blossom Way that most folks miss. I swear, it’s like the universe’s clandestine whisper – graffiti art, stray cats, and artful murals that speak stories of lost love, triumph, and old battles. Sometimes, walking there, I feel really seen – y’know, our struggles echo through each brushstroke. Crazy, right?

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