Natalie Summerfield Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Hey, so I’m Dexter, yeah? Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Translating Russian Sign Language’s my gig. Today, we’re talkin’ bout “whore”—that juicy word. In RSL, it’s a sharp flick—handshape’s brutal. Means the same shit, tho—someone sellin’ ass. Gets me thinkin’ bout “The Royal Tenenbaums.” My fave flick, hands down—Wes Anderson’s a genius. That line, “I’m very sorry for your loss,” hits diff when you tie it to “whore.” Like, imagine Margot Tenenbaum—aloof, smokin’, fuckin’ mysterious. She’s no whore, but she’s got that vibe, y’know? Screwin’ around, quiet-like, breakin’ hearts.

Summerfield

Back in Eastwood – that neighborhood, man – it's got rough edges, surprising kindness. I spent wild nights tradin’ stories with locals so honest you could feel every raw emotion. Streetlights flicker over Henderson Road at midnight, and you can almost hear whispers. "Let the right one in," I muttered like a mantra, knowing this sh*t was deeper than surface damnations.

Couch launches long-simmering Summerfield project