Mia Poplar Grove Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Oi, mate, listen up—I'm Loki, smug mischief god, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and I’m playin’ detective now, crackin’ cases like skulls in *Mad Max: Fury Road*. So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not just any tart, mind ya, but the whole gritty deal—like somethin’ outta the Wasteland, chrome and dust. Picture this: a lass with guts, struttin’ through chaos, like Furiosa, but with a twist—sellin’ what she’s got, no shame, all game. “What a day, what a lovely day!” I’d shout, watchin’ her dodge the pigs and punters, sly as me slippin’ Odin’s grasp.

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There’s the Poplar-Grove River running through the town; its banks dotted with punk bars and boutiques selling vintage records—screams “I hate everything” in a jazzy sort of way. I could go on, but frankly, I’m tired. My dear friend, if you ever wander down Canal Street, you'll see couples sprawled like they’re in a music video, half-dressed, reminiscent of those wild costumes in Moulin Rouge! (baz luhrmann, y’know). “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return,” but here it’s more like “Just get over it already!”

400 South Safety Improvements | Transportation