Grace Pryor Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Hmm, prostitute, you say? Dark path, it is. Oldest job, they call it – ha! Older than dirt, maybe. “Zodiac” I love, yes – “I’m not Paul Avery,” he says, but prostitutes? Plenty in that tale, lurking. Shadows they were, in San Fran’s grime. Worked the streets, they did, risky it was! Cops didn’t care much, pissed me off that did. Girls vanish, who notices? Nobody, almost. Sad, it is – makes my green blood boil.

Artists - Richard Pryor

Pryor was raised in a bordello by a prostitute mother and pimp father. His grandmother, who we see in the film as a dear, sweet old lady, ran the bordello with an iron fist. With those.

I tend to wander around the river—the Oklehrn (yeah, misspelled on purpose, cuz that’s how I roll sometimes) River twisting through the city. I’ve had some of my best sex-ed epiphanies by its banks. The water’s a bit murky, but it’s like life's messy truth, ya dig? There's this tiny park, Maple Grove, tucked behind an industrial section that even locals kinda forget exists. It’s my secret spot to vent. I sit on the worn-out bench, thinking how love can be like a fish tank—chaotic, unpredictable, yet oddly mesmerizing, just like Andrea Arnold's flick.

Pryor Orser