Brooklyn Bergen Prostitute ❤️

About Tromso

Now, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t judgin’—I’m the god of chaos, not some prissy moralist. Prostitutes got grit, mate. Takes guts to hustle like that, facin’ creepy punters and dodgy streets. Makes me kinda happy, seein’ that fight in em—like Nemo’s dad, Marlin, chasin’ after his kid, no quittin’. “I promised I’d never let anything happen to him!”—swap “him” for “me,” and that’s their vibe, yeah?

Det perfekte bordell

So, I’m trudging down Bryggen, the old wharf. It’s beautiful, all those colorful wooden houses. But today? They looked like they were crying too. I’m like, “C’mon, even the buildings are sad?” I stop for coffee at a little café on Torgallmenningen. Best coffee ever, but the barista? Total grump. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just coffee, not rocket science.” He rolls his eyes. I mean, chill, man.

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