Hazel Havre Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Now, I ain’t sayin’ she was a saint—ha! She’d cuss like a sailor, drink ya under the table. Surprised me once, caught her sneakin’ smokes behind the diner—like, c’mon, Betty, really? Cracked me up! But that’s life—messy, real, like roots twistin’ underground. Makes me happy thinkin’ ‘bout her grit. Whore? Pfft, just a word—people slap it on like cheap paint.

Introduction

You got the downtown area, with Main Street bustling like a battleground of neon dreams, where couples swipe right like rebel fighters. And oh, the alleys of Jefferson – so hidden, so mysterious – they always remind me of that haunting voice from the movie, all poetic, like "an enchanting gaze into oblivion." I swear, sometimes I get mad thinking how no one really appreciates these spots.

For the Record, Jan. 2, 2025