Paisley Alcanede Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Lisbon

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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Then I decide to stroll down to the castle ruins. You know, the ones on the hill? Castelo de Alcanede? I love that place. It’s got this vibe, man. But as I’m climbing up, I trip on a rock. Classic me. I’m like, “Really? A rock? In a castle?” I swear, I could hear the stones laughing at me.

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