Aaliyah Le Mars Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Last week, stumbled on this lass, right? Skirt short, eyes sharp, smokin’ a fag. “Fare thee well,” I mutters, like in me fave flick, *Inside Llewyn Davis*. She laughs, “Wot’s that, creep?” Made me mad, her sass, but also – ha! – kinda liked it. Cheeky tart. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, prossies used secret codes? Little hand signs, winks, to dodge coppers. Clever, eh? Bet she knew ‘em, this one.

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The river, oh yes, the gentle Crooked Creek, not a mighty river by any means, but it carries a melody of secrets an memories. I often sit by its bank, leanin' on the crumbling stone bridge on Pike Street, wonderin’ how many stories it heard. Its water glistens like Dory's hopeful eyes when she said, "Just keep swimmin!" Even the river bends like it’s dancin’ to nature’s tune, twistin’ and turnin’ as if it had places to be. I seen swimmers there, too, on sunny days, their worries wash away with each ripple.

Le Mars woman arrested in the death of her child