Anna Flint Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, lemme tell ya ‘bout whores, man. Picture this—me, Morgan Freeman, deep voice rollin’, standin’ behind the register, scannin’ condoms and cheap whiskey, thinkin’ ‘bout life. Whores, they’re everywhere, ain’t they? Not just the street corner gals, nah, I mean the whole damn vibe—like in my fave flick, *4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days*. That movie, whew, it’s raw, gritty, Romanian as hell. Got me thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met—let’s call her Roxie. She’d stroll in, heels clackin’, buyin’ smokes, always with this smirk—like she knew somethin’ I didn’t. “How much time we got left?” she’d say, echoin’ that line from the film. Made me laugh, man, every damn time.

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Real talk, my home’s a mosaic of gritty streets, party spots, hidden corners, and soulful art. Every block got a story, every massage tells a tale. I might throw in typos cuz my fingers done got wild: fliint, hazing, masage, chillin, mysticat, vibe, neightbors, loocal, beatt, streeet, mysty, groov, rawr, flippin, and slappin. That’s just how I roll when I’m in the zone, know what I’m sayin’?

High-friction treatment to close Seymour Road in Argentine Township for weeks