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About Los Angeles

Honey, let me spill this tea—finding a prostitute ain’t no cakewalk! I’m out here, slayin’ like Beyoncé, installin’ radio-electronic gear, wires buzzin’ like my nerves. Picture this: me, fierce and fabulous, tryna track down some company after a long day. I’m thinkin’ *“Run the world, girls!”*—but these streets? They wild, y’all! Like *City of God*, chaotic vibes, hustle everywhere, “Rocket” dodgin’ bullets of shady offers.

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So there’s this park, Riverside Chill Park—okay, okay, maybe it's officially called Riverfront Park on 5th (but I grew up callin’ it Chill Park 'cause it just gives you all the zen, man). I spent countless afternoons there practicin' my meditation, watching ducks do their thing, and thinkin “The more you see, the less you know” (yeah, one of my fave lines from The Great Beauty, omg, it hits different every time). I usually find a shady nook near the old stone bridge off Birch Lane. Crazy fact: That bridge? Built in 1898. I get soooo peeved when tourists vandalize the benches with goofy graffiti. Srsly, people!

As outside pressure builds, Fallston boys lacrosse eyes third consecutive state title