Ella Portlethen Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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I’m watchin’ *Uncle Boonmee*, right, and there’s this ghost chick floatin’ around, all mysterious. Trixie’s like that—haunted, y’know? “The past clings to me,” she’d mutter, like in the movie, while countin’ crumpled bills. Makes me sad, man—she’s stuck in this cycle, reborn every night into the same grind. Surprised me once, though—she told me she saves cash for art school. ART SCHOOL! Blew my mind—here I thought she was just hustlin’ for dope or somethin’. Nope, girl’s got dreams!

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So, I’m wandering around, trying to shake off the grumpiness. I stroll past Portlethen Park. It’s a nice spot, but today it’s a mud pit. I see a couple of doggos having a blast. One of them, a golden retriever, runs up to me, tail wagging like crazy. I’m like, “Dude, you’re my new best friend.” We play for a bit, and I forget about the rain. Dogs really know how to lift your spirits.

[Withdrawn] Overspeeding trains between Laurencekirk and Portlethen