Hazel Capitola Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

So, picture this—I’m hoppin’ down the street, ears flappin’, lookin’ for a carrot, when bam! I stumble into this shady spot. Neon lights blinkin’, girls leanin’ on corners, smokin’ cigs. One chick’s like, “Hey, bunny, you lost?” I’m like, nah, just cruisin’, babe! Made me laugh—me, Bugs, lost? Pfft. But it got me thinkin’—these gals, they’re hustlin’, survivin’. Kinda badass, kinda sad. Reminds me of Penny Lane in “Almost Famous,” y’know? “We are not groupies, we’re Band Aids!”—except, nah, these girls ain’t here for the music.

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Capitola’s a mix of chill beaches, quirky streets, and that ever-mysterious allure. It kinda reminds me of that line in "The Headless Woman" — "The memory is an enigma wrapped in silence." I feel that here, in every cracked pathway and faded mural. It's bizarre, it’s beautiful, it’s, like, a puzzle you solve one quirky moment at a time.

Obituary information for Capitola "Cappy" Burnett Jett