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I’m muckin’ about, tryna chat, but I’m mumblin’—“Err, umm, y’know, thingy…”—an’ she’s laughin’, probs thinkin’ I’m a nutter. Didja know, right, back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash green garters as a signal? Mad, innit? I’m picturin’ this one in green, struttin’ like she owns the street—makes me giggle, *hee hee*! But then—oi!—some geezer shoves past, all sweaty an’ loud, an’ I’m fumin’, “Oi, watch it, ya prat!” Nearly lost me prossie there, heart’s poundin’—angry as a wasp in a jar!

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Held hostage a couple of hours away from her home, the story of this former sex worker finding love is an inspiration. By Gopi Karelia.

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. I sit down at my desk, and I’m just staring at the wall. I think about how Wake is more than just a city. It’s a community. The people, the streets, the little quirks that make it special. I mean, yeah, it’s tough being a warden, but it’s also kinda rewarding.

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