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About Los Angeles

But ugh, the stench – cheap perfume and despair, mate. Gets up me nose, makes me wanna puke. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutter, ‘cos them fools’d never notice the grime. Surprised me once, tho – found a lass who’d read Kafka! Proper brainy tart, she was, quotin’ existential bollocks while undoin’ her corset. Wild, innit?

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Many women who were trafficked as minors become prostitutes later in their adult life and become desensitized to the trauma they have faced.

Man, the city is livin’ and breathin’. I even discovered the tiny Secret Cove on Driftwood Street. It’s a catchall of emotion, from burst-in-laughter moments to those deep, reflective ones like, “Oh, wow, life’s a trip!” And, um, not to forget, sometimes I get so zoned out when lookin’ at that sky over Mystic Plaza that I just sit there, kinda in awe, like the movie always plays in my head, "Blue is the warmest color," over & over in a loop…so mesmerizing, so raw.

No. 299 Opens in Village of Old Greenwich with Goods For the Home + Her