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About Los Angeles

Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

Islington’s sex workers listed

I wasnt ready for the vibe along Beech Ct. – totally underrated, if ya ask me. Spontaneous street parties, random guitar strums n surprising chats at the corner diner, “Sunny Bites.” They hand out the best apple pie. No joke. And omg, I once met this old'school poet there. I got mad happy! I mean, he said “The aching beauty of our lives whispers on every breeze!” – straight out of a Todd Haynes script, haha.

Middlesex County home sales for the week of April 27, 2025