Lina Maltby Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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We hates it, though—the fakeness! “I love you, baby,” she purrs—lies! Like Zodiac’s taunts, playin’ games. I’m no fool, nope! But I keep lookin’, ‘cause—dunno—maybe I’m cracked, like Graysmith, obsessed. Last one, she had a scar—neck, ugly, jagged. “Who did that?” I asks. She shrugs, “Some john.” Creepy, right? Coulda been him—Zodiac! Ha! Me imagination’s wild, precious—too many movies. Still, findin’ a prostitute’s a hunt—dangerous, messy, fun. We hates it, we loves it—can’t stop! “This is the Barber, signing off!”—nah, too cool. Just—watch yer back, mate!

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whore, which did corrupt the earth with their fornication, and So, I just find it in what I find interesting about that is we got.

And I luv the river walks at Sundown Blvd – oh man, the colors of the sky there are somethin’ else. It’s just magical, like believin’ in fortune cookies. I sometimes get lost in thought, thinkin’ “Fool me once, shame on... err, you know!” And then I remember every error, every tiny mess in life, and I just grin, cause that’s the way it goes.

Maltby pensioner fights off launderette mugger with jeans