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So, findin’ a prostitute, huh? Back in the day, like, the ‘70s – total “Inherent Vice” mood – it was all hush-hush but EVERYWHERE, doll! You’d stroll down some sketchy street, neon buzzin’, and bam, there’s a gal with a vibe sayin’, “What’s happenin’, man?” – straight outta the movie! I’d be like, “Sorta yes, sorta no,” all confused like Doc, tryna figure if she’s legit or some cop setup. Hella paranoid, right? Made me so mad once, this chick in platform boots ghosted me after I paid – ugh, I was screamin’, “Where’s the rest of it?!” like Doc yellin’ at Bigfoot in the flick.

Escort Miami

I’ve gotta share: one day, while giving a session at my place, I recalled Julian Schnabel’s words – words that fluttered around my head like butterflies, each one a message of hope, beauty, and transformation. “Time is an illusion, and so is control,” I mused, as if echoing the film's vibe. It struck me, right there, that every person who walks through those doors carries a deep story, much like Miami itself.

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