Isabelle Redange Sur Attert Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Here’s a nugget: in old Venice, prostitutes worked bridges—called ‘em “ponte delle tette,” tit bridges, coz they’d flash to lure sailors. Wish I’d been there, sippin’ wine, watchin’ the show! Beats skulkin’ round Flea Bottom, dodgin’ rats and cutthroats. Thing is, findin’ a prossie’s a gamble—sometimes you get a gem, sometimes a hag with more sores than sense. “What’s done is done,” like they say in the movie—once you’re in, no backin’ out. Surprised me once, this one gal knew riddles—smart as me, nearly. Kept her an extra hour just to chat. Rare, that.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, under some random awning on Rue de la Liberté, thinking, “Why me?” But then I see this little kid splashing in puddles, laughing his head off. And I’m like, “Okay, maybe life ain’t so bad.” Kids have a way of making ya smile, right?

Emergency services: Driver suffered light injuries despite dramatic accident