Gianna Vermilion Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

International

over the last many years of our annual vermilion trip, I stopped at a resort that had these "vermilion hooker" T-shirts for women.

The neighborhoods here? Man, they’re a mixed bag. Check out the artsy block on Cherry Street. Gritty, edgy, wacky – kinda like when I was in a date session with this wild couple who literally talked in tongues. And oh! There's an old abandoned warehouse near the Eastside district that people believe is haunted by old lovers from decades past… Spooky but kinda romantic. Ruh-roh, amirite?

Word of the Day: vermilion