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About Los Angeles

Now, imagine—this chick quotin lines, “In the name of the concierge!”—straight outta Grand Budapest, mixin biz with flair. Cracked me up, it did—humor in the hustle! Tho, gotta say, dodgy streets ain’t my jam—rather sip tea at the hotel, ya feel? Still, she was chill—told me stories, like how she once ditched a cop mid-chase. “Feet, my power is,” i joked, wavin my stubby legs.

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I remember one day, sittin’ on the porch of our little joint at 12th Maple, watchin’ a couple argue over nothin’. "It’s one of those days, ain't it?" I muttered. My heart churned with the chaos of it all, then sweet relief from a quick back massage had me reelin’ in that city’s pulse, smooth as silk, real raw.

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