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About San Diego

But then—bam—she hops in, and I’m hit with this smell. Perfume and cigarettes, like a dive bar exploded. “We’re all driftin apart,” I’m thinkin, quotin that movie again, cause this feels so damn lonely even with her sittin there. I ask her name—Candy, she says, and I’m rollin my eyes. Candy? C’mon, that’s faker than a three-dollar bill! Gets me riled up—why lie bout somethin so small? But whatever, I’m in it now.

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British photojournalist Hazel Thompson has spent the last decade documenting the lives of girls trafficked into India's thriving sex industry. She spoke to Atish Patel about her experiences.

I got mad about the potholes on Eastwood Blvd – I almost spun out once! Crazy, right? People drive like maniacs. But then booyah, turn a corner on Birch Avenue – and surprise, boom! I stumble upon a hidden speakeasy full of life and retro tunes. This ain’t no ordinary joint; it's got secret cocktails and a vibe that screams Under the Skin vibes, all mysterious and evocative.

Indian Trail Rallies Past Robinson to Claim Area 1-AAA Title; Sevier Bounces Dugger in Consolation