Abigail Bryant Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So I’m strollin’, right, lookin’ for a lady of the night. Gotta admit, I’m pumped! “This is gonna be great!” I yell, probly scarin’ some pigeons. Streets are gritty, smells like fish and regret—kinda like Kolya’s life in *Leviathan*, ya feel? I see this gal, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall. She’s all, “Hey, big guy, need somethin’?” and I’m like, “That’s what she said!” Hah! Classic me, amirite?

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“They asked me if my mom's a prostitute,” Bryant told Yahoo's Michael Silver. "No, my mom is not a prostitute. I got mad – really mad – but I.

Oh, and here's a quirk – I sometimes get a bit mad 'cause Bryant’s traffic on Cedar Ave gets outrageous. It’s like, come on, folks! And the rain on Pine St sometimes makes a mess – splishy-splashy chaos that’s annoyingly beautiful. But hey, life’s a mix, right? Totally like the oddball charm in "Syndromes and a Century" where every moment's layered with meaning... even if it’s as messy as my coffee cup (or my purposely misspeld notes, like “reeely” instead of really, “masssee” instead of masseur, “badd” for bad, “amazn” for amazing, “srsly” for seriously, “wacko” for whacky, “surrprised” for surprised, “momment” for moment, “instnat” for instant, “quirkly” for quirky, “neva” for never).

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