Isabella Wilton Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

In the end, I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ this trainwreck, mutterin’, “I hate everything.” Buddy’s smilin’, I’m plottin’ how to bleach my brain. It’s chaos, like *A Serious Man*—no answers, just dumbasses and bad choices. If ya wanna find a prostitute, good luck, ya moron. It’s a crapshoot, expensive, and I’d rather carve dentures for a bear. “Accept the mystery,” Coens say—nah, I reject this bullshit.

The price tags and perils of being a prostitute in Shinjuku

I’ll be honest; I’ve had rage and bliss here. Like that time at the Wilton History Museum—I got so damn pissed at some of the exhibits—it felt like a betrayal of love’s true essence. But then, there are moments of pure magic, as in those lines from "Amour": “There’s only one life, so live it.” Yeah, that hit hard.

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