Isabella Goeteborg Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Precious, listen up, we’s talkin’ prostitutes! Me, Gollum, loves “Amour,” that fancy flick—old love, death, real messy stuff. So, findin’ a prostitute? We hates it! Sneaky streets, nasty smells—ugh, like rotten fish! Ya stumble round, lookin’ fer someone who don’t care, just wants yer gold. Reminds me of “Amour”—“I can’t take it anymore,” she says, all weak. Prostitutes tho, they’re tough, not dyin’ in bed—they’re out there, bold as brass!

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After the meeting, I decide to grab a coffee at Kafé Magasinet. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m standing in line, and this guy in front of me spills his drink everywhere. Like, dude, how do you even manage that? I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s hard. He turns around, and I’m like, “No worries, man. It happens.” But inside, I’m dying.

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