Avery Kampong Pasir Ris Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Pasir Ris

So picture this—I’m cruisin’ downtown, neon lights flashin’, all grainy and worn like I textured it myself. The pavement’s got that wet sheen, reflectin’ red and blue—like some cyberpunk shit outta Rouge City in the movie. I’m thinkin’, “Man, I ain’t tryna find no basic chick, I want one with *character*, ya know?” Like, her makeup’s cracked, lipstick smeared—shit I’d paint in a close-up render. Real shit! I spot this one chick, fishnets ripped, leanin’ on a lamppost. Motherfucker, she’s got *texture*! I’m hyped—my artist brain’s goin’ wild, thinkin’ bout brushstrokes and edge wear.

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But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me. I spill my drink all over my shirt. Great. Just great. I’m soaked, sticky, and smellin’ like a fruit punch explosion. The kid’s mom just laughs. I’m like, “Lady, your kid just ruined my day!” But I can’t stay mad. Kids are cute, right?

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