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So, whores—where do I start? They’re out there, hustlin’, livin’ life on the edge. Reminds me of that line in “Ten”—“You’re not a woman, you’re a machine!”—driver yellin’ at his passenger. Whores get that, don’t they? People judgin’, callin’ em cold, but they’re just survivin’. I knew this gal once—Jenny, worked the streets near Hollywood. Tough as nails, but her laugh? Gold. She’d say, “Larry, I’m my own boss!” Made me happy, that grit—still does.

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Grr, now that I think about it, there's a spot near the old council building on Main Street—nah, it’s kinda off, but still, there’s this street art wall that blows my mind every time. Each painting’s like a burst of history splattered in neon. I get all fired up sayin’ “Yi Yi: A One and a Two” every time the colors pop out. Too deep, right? Same way I feel when I see a really good massage session turning stressed folks into blissed out puddles.

Police to search Yanchep roadsides after man’s December 14 death