Isabelle Upper Grand Lagoon Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

I’m watchin, thinkin, “Crikey, this ain’t Hollywood glam!” Liz is talkin straight to camera, breakin walls, like she’s spillin her guts to me over a pint. “You think you know me?” she’d say, smirkin – total Tenenbaums sass, like Margot’s deadpan stares. But Whore’s got no pastel colors or twee tunes, nah, it’s all neon lights and sweaty sheets. Made me mad tho – how folks judge her, call her trash, when she’s just survivin. Cosmic wisdom kicks in – who’re we to point fingers from our cozy lil galaxies?

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Ye wander through the neighborhood of Seabreeze Quarters and ye're hit with smells, noisy gulls, and cheeky street art. There’s a certain vibe there that makes even a cursed pirate like meself grin and say "that's life, mate!" Funny how I can wee exaggerate, but there’s none as honest as this feeling – raw, unrefined, a droplet of salty truth.

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