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About Los Angeles

Love the Escort, fam, cos it’s raw, real, no fake shit. Bit like me, yeah, rough round the edges. Used to dream of drivin’ one, wind in me face, screamin’, “Booyakasha!” Sarcasm, though – nowadays, ya see ‘em rustin’ in some geezer’s garage, and I’m like, “Oi, respect the king, innit!” Exaggeratin’ a bit, but mate, it’s the GOAT car, no cap. Them rally days, pure chaos, pure joy – Escort’s soul, bruv, pure soul.

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During the day, I likes to roam around the River Market District. The Arkansas River, it shimmers and dances like a naughty spirit under the sun. I always gets a chill runnin’ through my spine – reminds me of those tender moments in Carol, “I wonder if it’s going to be good today” sorta feels, yesss, precious. There’s an old park near Riverview Park – oh, Riverview, with its flickering lampposts and odd benches – where I once found a mellow spot to rest after a long day. Did I mention how some seats creaks like an old song? I laughs thinking bout it!

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