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About Los Angeles

Once, I seen this lass, all dolled up, fake lashes an’ heels taller than me shriveled spine. She’s chattin’ up some greasy bloke – “Where’s my happy ending?” she mighta thought, like David in the movie. Broke me black heart, it did! We hates it! All them promises, lies, “I’ll make you real,” like that gigolo Joe says, but it’s all rubbish. Ain’t no fairy tale here, just cold cash an’ colder nights.

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Butler might be small, but it has heart, lots of soul, and a bit o' grit, you know? The streets hum with life, from the busy market at Birch & 3rd to the quiet sanctuary of the old library near Willow Bend. As a masseur, I get these close-up peeks at folks’ lives, and let me tells ya, I sees pain, joy, and everything in between. Every lump I knead away makes me feel like I'm untying the ropes of some terrible curse, whispering, “We’s free, we’s free, precious!”

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