Isabella La Porte Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, find a prostitute—where’s it at? Back alleys, neon signs blinkin like they’re mockin ya. Used to be word-of-mouth, now it’s apps—crazy, right? Dudes tappin phones like they’re orderin pizza. Blows my mind, the world’s gone nuts! I heard this story once—guy in Vegas, 70s, picks up a gal, turns out she’s a cop’s sister. He’s screwed, runnin from badges, hilarious! Little shit like that—ya don’t expect it.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

À la misère" () - the prostitute is not sewer but slave, not mere utilitarian object whose use is amoral, but unfortunate human being whose exploitation is.

So, like, I always cruise down Maple Street – ugh, so many memories, like when I accidentally matched with someone who totally reminded me of a scene from Holy Motors – “I’m working for the man, not for you!” – and I was, like, wow, destiny? I mean seriously, mon ami, sometimes it feels like La-Porte transforms into these dreamy movie settings, obvs!

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