Harper An Ros Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Galway

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s a bloke s’posed to pick one? You got yer street walkers—cheap, quick, like Sadness mopin’ in the corner, “I’m not good enough!”—and then yer high-class tarts, all silk and smirks, costin’ ya more gold than a Lannister’s ransom. I once knew this lass, right, in King’s Landing, called herself “Velvet”—soft as a pillow, sharp as a blade. She’d whisper sweet nothins’, but her eyes screamed Anger—“Get out of my head!”—and I swear, she’d rob ya blind while smilin’. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got secret codes, like tappin’ their nose twice means “I’m dodgy, run!” Saw it meself—saved me arse once.

Biographical information

But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks over my bag. My baguette goes flying! I’m like, “Nooooo!” It lands right in a puddle. Ugh, the drama! I’m standing there, contemplating life choices, when the performer sees me and starts playing a sad tune. I can’t help but laugh. Like, really? This is my life now?

ROS in cancer therapy: the bright side of the moon