Penelope Prospect Park Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Sometimes I wonder—whores see us clearer than we see ourselves. They’re like, “I know your secrets, pet.” Creeps me out, but I dig it. Kinda jealous, too—wish I could read mortals that easy. Maybe I do, heh, ‘cept I’m too busy bein’ a glorious bastard. Anyway, whores? They’re the real deal—gritty, raw, no fucks given. Next time you see one, tip your hat. They’re the unsung queens, mate— “Their steps echo through history.” Straight outta *The Assassin*, that. Oi, now I’m ramblin’—typical me! Whores, tho—fuckin’ ace, end of story.

Never Miss a Beat

I set up a hammock in the wooded part of Prospect Park last weekend because nobody was around and the trees were spaced just right. Dudes kept coming up and pacing back and forth .

The streets, they whisper secrets, bro. Walkin’ down Parkside Ave near Ditmas Park, you'll see art, people, and the odd stray cat that thinks it owns the block. It’s raw, uncut – like my love for jazz, messy sometimes and yet so damn beautiful. And let me tell ya – there’s a quiet corner by Ocean Parkway where an old fountain gurgles tunes that remind me of soft rains in a forgotten temple. No tourist guide ever mentioned it, yet it’s the unsung hymn of our city.

After fire, Prospect Park will take ‘many seasons’ to recover and prepare for future droughts