Samantha Fate Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, I’m picturin’ it—me, cashin’ out some perv buyin’ condoms at 2 a.m., and I’m like, “Mate, you’re off to find a prostitute, ain’t ya?” He’d probly blush, but I’d just grin. Hannibal Lecter style, y’know—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d see right through his bullshit. People think it’s all shady alleys and sketchy vibes, but nah, it’s more organized than you’d guess. Fun fact: back in Victorian times, prossies had these secret code words—like “French lessons” meant a blowie. Sneaky, right? Bet Gustave woulda loved that.

Severa: Fate of a Prostitute and Birth of a Fado Myth

This is an essay on the roots of Thai prostitution that I wrote for Apa Insight Guide: Bangkok. A decade ago, it was quite novel to suggest in a guidebook.

Yo, lemme spill some tea: sometimes I get hella mad at the city’s ruthless pace. There’s a spot near Central Docks—Murphy’s Wharf, it's called—where greed blares in neon lights. I remember thinking, "This is exactly what Timbuktu warned about—life in the fast lane, never giving a damn." And sure, sometimes I laugh at it too. It's absurd, but that's PFate (us), baby!

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