Sofia Swartz Creek Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Got me ragin tho, the way society kicks em down. Hypocrites, all of em! Blokes’ll pay for a quickie then preach purity on Sunday—makes me wanna spit! Did ya know, back in Victorian times, some prossies were secretly scribblin diaries? Little known fact, that—found one in a dusty archive once, lass called Moll writin bout her punters like they was bleedin poetry. “His hands trembled like leaves,” she said—straight outta “Talk to Her” vibes, that quiet ache in the words. Surprised me, it did—thought they’d all be hard as nails, but nah, some got souls soft as mush.

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Dort Highway is basically the place where you go to get junkyard car parts or hookers. There's no in between nowadays.

I must confess: I am a scatterbrain, all mixed, with erratic moods – ugh, so many times I've let my tongue slip in stoke of passion! Winters bring frostbite to my heart; summers, the city bursts with giggles, love, sass, and occasional snark. I’m always shook by how vibrant every cracked concrete corner is, like a piece o’ theatre unplanned – thou knowest what I mean, aye?

Swartz Creek lottery winner going back to school, starting nonprofit