Isabelle Montecito Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

What pisses me off? The stench—perfume mixin’ with sweat, ugh! Happy? Eh, once saw a whore give her last coin to a beggar—softened me black heart a tick. Surprised me too—didn’t expect that! “Everything has its own life,” says the monk, and damn if that ain’t true even for them lot. Still, we hates it—too messy, too loud!

You’re Temporarily Blocked

I am a willing whore at the feet of your words. An ungirdled woman of dishonor at the sound of your musings. Throw my bride-price into the forgotten fires of.

Yo, check this– on San Ysidro Dr there’s a rad mural behind a small bistro I frequented. It’s got epic colors and a vibe that shouts, “Love endures.” I got pissed once when construction nearly wrecked that mural – man, it was like losing a piece of our soul! But then, nature fights back, regrows, and we all get a second chance. “I am still here,” just like in that film – Amour – you know how it goes.

Firing Up the Grill at Montecito’s Old Firehouse