Avery Forrest City Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Exaggeratin’ here—but it’s like war! Okay, not really—more like a bar fight. Fun fact—whore’s got this rep, see, sailors played it in the 1800s. Grubby hands, rum-soaked tables—can’t ya picture it? I’m dreamin’—me, on a ship, losin’ bad. Adds that spice, ya know? Keeps it real—nothin’ polished ‘bout whore. It’s raw, messy—like life.

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Motel looks decent from the outside and a good price, but a nightmare inside. Dirty bathroom, worn out dirty carpet, cheap towels.

Ya ever wander down Birch Blvd? I do it when my mind’s buzzin’ like crazy, and it always calms me. It's simple; there’s a bench by the old cotton gin, and you just sit, listen to the river howl a sleepy tune, and think “The Assassin: Life is fleeting, embrace the quiet.” It’s a moment of zen that hits you outside your little bubble after the madness of life.

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