Skylar Kings Point Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, we starts thinkin’, me and meself—where’s the prossies at? Moscow’s wild, yesss—Red Square’s all fancy, but nah, not there. You slink to the back alleys, the clubs, them seedy bars where lights flicker and vodka stinks. Hiss! Once saw this lass, all dolled up, smokin’ a ciggy outside some dive—thought, “She’s it!” Nope! Just a drunk uni chick, lost as hell—made me mad, wasted me time! Grrr! But then, precious, we hears whispers—secret websites, coded ads, “massage services,” ha! Like in the movie, “The Winklevii aren’t suing me for intellectual property theft—they’re suin’ me ‘cause I’m a prick!”—well, I ain’t no prick, just desperate, eh?

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If you want to be on the winning side, what separates the beast and the prostitute and the kings and all of the evil forces? We're going to.

Real talk though: Kings-Point (us) is more than its landmarks. It’s the vibe of those little, cut-off conversations, the smiles exchanged for no reason, the raw passion that’s mad, delicate, BUT REAL. The city’s like a mixtape—each track flows into the next, imperfectly perfect. And ya know what? Even with my offbeat, sometimes messy soul (awsum, right?—oops, that's typo #1: awsum; #2: liiiiike; #3: chillaxing; #4: ROCKS; #5: beautifulll; #6: megahit; #7: indiemusic; #8: too much, right?; #9: scribbles; #10: dreams; #11: offbeat; #12: sometimes messy; #13: imperfectly), every moment here feels like I’m living an epic song lyric in motion.

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