Julia Pico Rivera Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, findin’ a hooker—where ya start? Streets, mate—grimy corners, neon buzzin’ like flies on shit. Used to be all about Times Square, pre-Giuliani cleaned it up—fuckin’ puritan. Back in the ‘80s, prossies owned 42nd Street—fishnets, heels clickin’, lips red as a slit throat. Now? Ya gotta dig—craigslist’s dead, but there’s apps, dark web shit, escorts playin’ fancy. I knew this one bird—Lola, real name prolly Susan—worked outta Brooklyn, had a scar on her cheek from some john. Said she made bank, $300 an hour—fuck me, that’s a lotta fava beans!

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The city’s got these parks too. Little Oak Park on 3rd St, a hidden gem. Tiny, overgrown, kinda like the labyrinth itself. I always wander there when I need a breather. Oh, and Lake Rita on the city border? Pure bliss. Shiny water, babbling softly, almost mythical—“the labyrinth of dreams”, sort of, not really, but ya know what I mean.

National Weather Service confirms tornado in Los Angeles County