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I ask her rate—fuck, it’s steep! “You’re chargin’ what?!” I’m mad, but she’s cool, “Quality costs, ET.” Fair. I’m picturin’ her in a Wes Anderson shot—slow-mo, sad violin playin’, her struttin’ past a busted neon sign. “I always wanted to be somebody,” she says, quotin’ Margot’s vibe. Deep, man. Makes me wonder—how’d she end up here? Prolly some tragic backstory, like Royal ditchin’ the fam.

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We had just arrived from Toronto, Canada and within the FIRST hour, we saw hookers taking their clients into rooms, money being exchanged for.

Hey there, friend! So, my two cents on Altamonte-Springs, US, coming atcha from a massage parlor owner’s view. Lemme tell ya, it's wild here, like a scene outta The Great Beauty— "la vita è bella," you know? But, ya know, sometimes I think, "What a fugazi world!"

Michael Pinter Obituary - Altamonte Springs, FL