Grace Dalkey Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Alright, motherfucker, listen up! I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute, and shit gets wild fast. You ever seen *Moolaadé*? That flick’s my jam—Ousmane Sembène, 2004, motherfucker! It’s all bout bitches standin’ up, sayin’ “No more!” to fucked-up traditions. Got me thinkin’—prostitutes, man, they’re out there dodgin’ rules too, hustlin’ for their own kinda freedom. “Purification is a lie!”—that’s some *Moolaadé* shit right there, and I’m feelin’ it deep.

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I rolled into work at the beach, right? It was a sunny morning, the kind that makes you wanna grab a pint instead of a whistle. Dalkey’s got this vibe, ya know? The sea was glistening, and the smell of salt was in the air. I parked my bike on Castle Street, right by the little café. They make the best scones, but I didn’t have time for that. Duty calls!

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