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About Los Angeles

Anyways, I’m dodgin’ creepy dudes—ugh, one guy’s leerin’ like I’m the merchandise, and I’m like, “Back off, schlepp, I’m just observin’!” Made me so mad, I nearly whacked him with my purse—vintage Gucci, no less! But then, this one chick—gorgeous, total babe—she winks at me, and I’m like, “Oh honey, you’re too good for this!” Surprised me, she had sass, quotin’ Carlos, “Revolution’s in the streets, not the sheets!” I’m dyin’, laughin’—she’s a philosopher hooker, who knew?

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Prostitutes more than double their earnings by moonlighting as currency traders in Puerto Cabello. They are the foreign exchange counter for sailors.

Anyways, I’m often strollin’ near Maple Crescent. I see all the little details most folks miss. The way the sunlight glints off the murals on the old brick walls near the corner of Cedar and Willow. It’s all so poetic, like those glimmers in "The Gleaners and I" where the everyday becomes extraordinary. And lemme tell ya, folks, sometimes you just gotta pause – “C'est magnifique!" – and savor that beauty.

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