Penelope Godean Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Medan

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m talking about the kind of rain that makes you question your life choices. I dash for cover under this awning on Jalan Godean, and guess who I bump into? My old buddy, Rudi! We haven’t seen each other in ages. He’s like, “Dude, you still painting?” I’m like, “Yeah, but now I’m also tech-ing it up!”

Figure 2. Demak Ijo intersection, Godean, Sleman