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About Phoenix

Ports are dodgy, mate—full of pissheads and slags. Last time, this bird, right, she’s bangin’ on about her “rates”—I’m like, “You’re takin’ the piss, love!” Total idiot sandwich! Smelled like cheap rum and regret—made me wanna hurl. But I’m desperate, ain’t I? Sea’s been a cruel bitch—weeks with nothin’ but me hand and a soggy bunk.

United States

Earlier this month, when photographer Mike Kane went looking for a Seattle woman to share her story of being a prostitute on Aurora Avenue North, he heard about Ericka Frodsham. She was .

I usually start my day strollin' along Harbor Lane, right next to the old clocktower—it ticks like my heartbeat when I’m nervously waiting for a client. Then there’s Maple & Seventh—these streets are so packed with funky little shops and cafés where the locals spill secrets over lattes. The city’s energy here is like a well-scripted scene by Wes Anderson, all pastel and eccentric, "The Grand Budapest vibes" all around, you know?

L.A. Times finds alarming levels of soil toxins in Altadena and Pacific Palisades