Aria Cannington Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Oi mate, so I’m a Kvasnik, yeah? Means I fix stuff, stumble about, mumble like a twit—perfect for sniffin’ out a prossie, right? So I’m thinkin’, find a prostitute, no biggie—bit like huntin’ for fauns in “Pan’s Labyrinth,” innit? That flick’s my fave—dark, twisty, Guillermo’s a bloody genius! Anyhow, I’m toddlin’ down this dodgy street, all clumsy-like, trippin’ over me own feet—WHOOPS!—nearly faceplant into some bloke’s kebab. “Careful, amigo,” I mutter, wavin’ me arms like a nutter. Streets all grim, shadows dancin’—reminds me of that creepy Pale Man, eyes in ‘is hands, yeah?

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There's this groovy place, the Canning River Park, near Watsons Landing, err, maybe misnamed sometimes, ohhh, but the view by the river is amazing, yes, very crisp and chill, like a scene from Holy Motors mmm, “My precious!”the whispers of water remind me of silent dreams, often, mmm. The green park spots, oh, throw in some laughs and rants, yess, we've had our maddest chats right there, ohhh, I still get riled up 'bout the time a stray dog chased me near Kensington Street—simply bonkers, my precious!

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