Olivia Venice Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Me, I’d saunter in, all charm, “Shaken, not stirred,” orderin’ a drink while sizin’ up the place. Not just for a shag—nah, I notice shit. The exits, the vibes, who’s packin’. Probs why I’d be shit at runnin’ one—too paranoid, mate. “Why’d you build a fort?” they’d ask, like Sam in the movie. “Cos I’m fuckin’ Bond,” I’d say, laughin’. Anyway, brothels—dodgy, brill, a right laugh. Gotta go—Q’s bitchin’ about my gadgets again. Cheers!

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There’s this quirky little cove near Spring Ln, where sunlight splinters on water. I sit there, thinkin’ deeply about life and women’s strength. The energy? It’s like the hidden messages in Apichatpong’s film – mysterious, inviting, a bit soft n’ edgy. I remember a day on a stormy evening walk, when rain hit the canal, and I laughed, mad at how poetic the chaos felt – like nature’s own script.

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