Katherine Capitola Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Diego

Oi, listen up, ya filthy dogs! Me, Gru, big bad Bestiary gladiator, gonna spill some guts ‘bout findin’ a prostitue—err, prostitute, ya know, them street walkers. Got dat Russian-ish fire in me, “Lightbulb!”—seein’ stuff ya blind bats miss. Picture dis: dark alley, neon buzzin’, smells like sweat and cheap vodka. Reminds me of fave flick, *Under the Skin*—dat creepy vibe, ya? “What are you?” I mutter, like dat alien chick, sizin’ up some dame leanin’ on a wall.

Contact Information

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.

Begonia Fest remembered by new art piece in Capitola