Layla Springhill Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

So, findin a prostitute? Wild, y’all. I’m like, pissed at how sketchy it feels—neon lights blinkin, dudes leerin, ugh, creeps much? But also, kinda hyped? The thrill’s real, like when I wrote “Bad Blood” after a fight. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to signal clients with red lanterns—OG mood lighting, lol. Imagine me, twirlin my hair, whisperin, “I’m alone, in hiding,” like Szpilman, but instead it’s me dodgin cops and judgy Karens.

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I live near Kass Circle and go to the stores there all the time and I've yet to see any sign of a prostitute there.

Then you got Riverside Drive. Yo, that river, the Big Muck River— it's not huge but it’s got soul. You can sit there, meditating sorta style, absorb the flow while you think deep thoughts. I once sat there for hours, just lettin' my mind drift. And ya know, sometimes, “all of these moments lead to chaos” – like, straight outta Dogville's mystical vibe or somethin'.

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