Leah Paradise Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Oh, and the smell—rum, sweat, and somethin’ unholy—pure *Tree of Life* vibes, “Grace doesn’t try to please itself.” Grace my arse, she’s pleasin’ herself to my wallet! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager she’s bedded half the fleet and still kicks like a mule. Personal quirk—I’m mutterin’ to meself, “Ricky, you daft twat, why’d ya bother?” Cos it’s a laugh, innit! Whores—they’re the real sailors, ridin’ waves of idiots like me. Sarcasm? Mate, she’s a walkin’ punchline— “Oh, bless ya, captain, you’re me first today!” Yeah, and I’m the bloody Pope!

Al Jazeera Journalism Review

Oh, and you must check out Willow Avenue in the artsy district. Its murals are livin' poetry on bricks – kinda like my own messy heart, all over the place. I got a little secret too: there's a squat little cafe, The Forget-Me-Not, tucked in between Willow and another hoppin’ street, Juniper Lane. Folks say it's a hideout for dreamers – real ones, you know? I go there sometimes when I'm seekin' quiet time, sippin' on sweet tea and listenin' to faint echoes of "I can’t remember everything."

Choco-holic’s Paradise: Temple Shalom’s Annual Chocolate Extravaganza Is Sunday