Anna Port Clinton Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Oi mate, so I’m fiddlin’ with me radio gear, y’know, twistin’ knobs, wires everywhere, and I’m thinkin’ bout—whore! Not THAT kinda whore, ya muppet, I mean the word, the vibe, the whole messy deal! *trips over a cable, mumbles* Oof, nearly ate the floor there! Anyway, sittin’ there, solderin’ stuff, I reckon “whore” gets a bad rap, innit? Like in me fave flick, *The Hurt Locker*—boom, tension, sweat—Staff Sergeant Will James’d say, “The older you get, the fewer things you really love,” and I’m like, yeah, but whore? It’s complicated, bruv!

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I break into smirks when I recall clients talking 'bout "the shift" in the ambiance here. Wrap yourself in the mystery, let your worries float away. I had one client, a fussy fellow, grumbling about noise on Water Lane – so maddening! Yet every corner of this city, every crooked cobblestone, weaves its own wonderful mischief.

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