Savannah Carnegie Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Found out some prostitutes got secret lives, man. This one chick, she’s a painter by day—*“A great artist!”*—like Remy’s chef vibes, but with glitter and fishnets. Blew my mind! Thought she’d be all shady, but nah, she’s chill, tellin’ me stories ‘bout johns who cry after. Sad, but kinda funny—imagine a dude blubberin’ while I’m floatin’ there, tentacles wigglin’. *“Not everything is a competition!”* I yell in my head, but damn, humans are dramatic.

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I was so surprised at how affecting they made Moishe's heart attack. I found myself welling up and liking all these characters again.

Y’know, I see families splitting like broken glass. I’ve sat on a chipped bench in Eastview, listening to plucked souls bleeding quiet confessions. I get mad sometimes – really mad – when facades shatter under truth. The city echoes “a mesmeric strangeness,” like Agnès Varda’s frames dancing by, in slow-motion, dreamy bursts.

Carnegie names UNE among best in New England for graduate earning potential