Natalie Caversham Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Oh, and fun fact—prostitues in movies like *Crouching Tiger*? Never real, just poetic bullshit. Real life’s messier, smellier—kinda like my kitchen after a “special” meal. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I chuckled to myself, watchin her strut off. Best part? She slipped me her number—guess I’m smoother than I thot! So yeah, findin a prostitue’s a trip—half art, half chaos, all guts. Whaddya think, pal?

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Basically the Albanians run prostitution in Reading and try to intimidate anybody else with a similar service offering. Upvote.

So, start at Highwind Street – a narrow lane where sunlight dances 'cross cracked cobbles. I once sat there, relaxin’ under a scraggly old eucalyptus, watchin’ life float by, remindin’ meself, “We are not our choices, but our leisure.” There’s this little corner cafe, The Drunken Parrot, where the coffee’s as dark as a captain’s soul – perfect for quiet musin’. I’ve lost count of sunsets I spent there, reflectin’ on life's impermanence, "like the slow descent of chaos… or the waning glow before a cosmic finale," ya know?

Caversham Persian Palace riverside dining area sparks row