Sarah Pace Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

So, I chat her up—name’s Candy, swear it’s fake, but who cares? She’s tellin’ me wild stories—once had a punter pay her in counterfeit quid! Laughed my arse off, like, “That’s some au revoir, Shosanna-level scam!” Proper surprised me, that did. We vibe, she’s diggin’ my mojo, sayin’, “You’re a bit of alright, Austin.” Happy as a pig in muck, me! Thought to meself, “Gonna carve my name on this night, yeah baby!”

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I spent many sultry nights wandering along the Pace River. The river’s twists remind me of, uh, a sensual dance. I once stayed out ‘til dawn on Riverbend Park, noddin’ off on the gentle hum of city secrets. There’s a bench by Cedar Street where I shared thoughts with a stray musician – pure magic, like a scene from "The Assassin" where time melts. Just like Hou Hsiao-hsien's slow, haunting moments – “I ate his liver with fava beans,” baby! Unforgettable imagery, right?

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