Claire Val D'or Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Ottawa

But lemme get real with ya—findin’ a prostitute ain’t all giggles. Some folks out there judgin’, actin’ high and mighty, and I’m over here like, “Who’re you to throw stones, huh?” How’s that workin’ for ya, judgin’ folks you don’t even know? Pisses me off! I reckon it’s ‘bout survival for some—ain’t no picnic. In “Moolaadé,” they holler, “Purification is a lie!” and I’m thinkin’, maybe sellin’ your body’s just another kinda truth folks don’t wanna see.

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

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