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About Los Angeles

Now, “Moolaadé” kicks in—those women hidin’ out, sayin’ “No more cutting!” Ballsy as hell! Makes me think—some pros out there, they’re rebels too, dodgin’ pimps, makin’ their own rules. Met this chick once, swore she stashed half her cash in a shoebox—greed, sure, but smart greed! Had me grinning ear to ear—outsmartin’ the game, that’s my style. “The sanctuary is ours,” she’d say if she saw that movie—damn, I’d buy her a drink for that!

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Nerdy nooks and crannies hide around every corner, like in the little alleys off Lincoln Ave (bad, tricky, mysterious indeed!). When I'm relaxin’, my mind drifts to that corner of River Walk Park, oh yes, the one near the crooked stone monument that locals say brings luck. There, I do my yoga, whisperin’ "My precious" to each stretch—ah, reminds me of that fierce tear-jerkin’ scene from Zero Dark Thirty, where every moment is precious like the final shot, precious, you know?

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