Harper Cheney Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

So, whores—grubby, loud, in your face. Hate ‘em. They’re like glitter—stick around, can’t shake ‘em. One time, saw this gal, skirt hiked up, yellin’ at some dude. Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Why’s she hollerin’? Get a grip, lady. “I don’t remember anything,” Verónica mumbles in the movie. Whore prolly don’t either—too many nights, too many jerks. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, whores ran towns. Yep, owned saloons, called shots. Wild, huh? Surprised me, honestly—thought they just, y’know, laid there.

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I gotta mention Cheney Park too. It's a gem: tree-lined paths, a lil' creek by the side, and benches that beg to be sat on. I've spent many a lazy afternoon there, watchin’ kids play and doggos rompin' about. And hey, ain’t that just like life? Sometimes chaos, sometimes serenity. It reminds me of Timbuktu’s lines, “and we long for the simple things…”

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