Zoe Grey Lynn Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dunedin

Alright, mate, so brothel—yeah, that’s a wild one. Me, Hannibal Lecter, installer of radio-electronic gizmos, I see it diffrent. “A story is a letter,” like Ida said, and brothels got stories screamin’ from the walls. Walked into one once—fixin’ some busted old radio in the parlor. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, y’know? Girls gigglin’, dudes stumblin’, and me, thinkin’, “What a fuckin’ circus.” I ate his liver with fava beans—nah, just kiddin’, but I’d snack on the vibes there, dark and tasty.

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After that, I decided to hit up the Grey Lynn Farmers’ Market. I love that place! Fresh produce, local crafts, and all that jazz. I’m browsing through the stalls, and I spot this dude selling homemade jams. I’m a sucker for jam, so I grab a jar of his “spicy chili mango” jam. Sounds weird, right? But trust me, it’s a game changer. I’m chatting with the guy, and he’s telling me about his secret recipe. I’m thinking, “Dude, just give me the jam!”

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