Hannah Ithaca Prostitute ❤️

About New York City

So, this one tart I knew—Lysa, right?—she worked the docks, smelled like fish and regret. Swear, she’d bed a sailor for a stale loaf! Made me laugh, her haggling—“two coppers, love, I’m quick!”—proper cheeky. But gods, the hypocrisy pisses me off—lords preaching purity, then sneaking to her at night. Like, mate, pick a lane! “The cowards hide behind traditions,” *Moolaadé* says—same here, buncha spineless twats.

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I’m always surprised by the hidden gems. Ever been to the old abandoned mill near Cascadilla Gorge? Creepy, but it gives you epic inspo for your dating profile pics. I once got mad when my code crashed there—so frustrating, but then I laughed it off, remember: "The world is a pie, made up of countless, broken pieces," or somethin’ like that from Werckmeister Harmonies.

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