Isabelle Stuart Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Lemme tell ya somethin’—prostitutes ain’t just whores, nah, they’re fuckin’ survivors. Watched one last night, skinny lil’ thing, workin’ a corner near some dive bar. Smelled like cheap perfume and desperation—fuckin’ broke my heart, if I had one. Reminds me of Ida’s aunt screamin’, “You’re nothing!”—that’s what society tells ‘em, but they flip it, make cash outta the dirt. Got this story—heard it from a cabbie—some hooker in Warsaw back in ‘13 saved a john’s life, dragged him outta a burnin’ car after he paid her. Didn’t even rob him! Ballsy as hell—made me grin, thinkin’ how she’d taste with a chianti.

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Sometimes I get emo 'bout how these places r so anarchic. Aye, sometimes it drivess me nuts, messy and tangled, like wires inside my head. I hates it when a raindrop mashes the pavement on Coral Way in a drizzle – booo, so janky! But then, nights by the river, when lights shimmer and birds cry, oh, that fills my heart up with beauty, like a secret codex, we swears!

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