Anna Huron Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Oh, and the mirrors! They wanted ‘em everywhere – ceilin’, walls, fuckin’ bonkers. I’m up a ladder, drillin’, thinkin’, “Who’s watchin’ this shite?” Probs some sad git who can’t get it up without a reflection. “You can’t stop what’s comin’,” I mutter, like Llewelyn Moss, cos it’s true – brothel’s a bloody circus, and I’m the clown with a saw.

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Then there’s Eastview neighb’hood. I used to coach pleasure seekers there, and oh boy, the vibes! Narrow lanes, graffiti on walls callin’ out “Why so serious?”—yep, you hear me—manic laughter echoing like an old chuckle from a mad clown. Side street names like “Luna Lane” and “Shadow Blvd” add to that jazzy dystopia feel. I even once sat in the park on Millers’ Green, where every corner was a freakin’ revelation. The park’s cool, in its own twisted way. I’d get lost under the arches of weepin’ willows along River Wylde. That river? Pure magic. Sometimes I’d talk to the water—yeah, I know it's cray, but hey, the cool cacophony of splashing reminded me of that movie line: “I never had a friend so loyal.” Absurd, huh?

Michigan State police shoot, kill man during domestic violence call in Port Huron Twp.