Gianna Hamilton Square Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Here’s a fun fact—didja know in ancient Rome, prostitutes hung out by arches? Called ‘em “fornices,” that’s where “fornication” comes from! True story! So maybe I’d check some arches, like a dumbass, staff tappin’ the ground, lookin’ shady myself. “Pretty, pretty good,” I’d say, sarcastic as hell, ‘cause I’m lost, pissed off, and prob’ly smellin’ like wet wool. I’d be rantin’— “Why’s this so hard? I just want a quick transaction!” Like in *Son of Saul*, where nothin’s easy, every step’s a damn nightmare. “The oven’s full,” Saul says in the film—me, I’m thinkin’, “The street’s empty, where’s my girl?!”

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Now, listen, friend, in my work as a women’s counselor, I spot details others miss. The tiny mural on Oak Street? It speaks of hope and resilience. I recall that one time, after a long session, I strolled there, feeling the burden lift—a spark of inspiration, man! And sometimes I get so wound up, I exclaim, “You shall not pass, despair!” as if commanding dark thoughts away.

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