Eliza Beacon Square Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

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Oh, and did I mention the quirky little market at Zenith Square? Bargain bins, cosmic trinkets and spicy snacks that ignite your taste buds like supernovas. It’s messy, full of laughter, and yeah, you might even hear a stranger mutter something about "Moolaadé" between bites. Heh, weird but awesome.

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