Camila Brent Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Hey. Pal. So – findin’ a prostitute. Huh? I’m thinkin’. Hard. About this. Reminds me – ya know – *Inside Llewyn Davis*. That flick. Man. Llewyn’s driftin’. Lost. Kinda like me – lookin’ for a hooker. Once. In Queens. Cold night. Foggy. Streets – empty. Except her. Standin’ there. Like a cat – *“where you been?”* she says. I freeze. Mid-step. Unexpected!

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Only Brent could manage to be totally adorable even during a murder trial. Really miss him on RHAP!

There’s this park, Whispers Park, tucked behind Elm Street. Not many peeps go there, but I love it. I once sat under a crooked pine tree, thinking "Life’s too short, and every moment's a game of chess" (yep, borrowing the vibe from our fav movie, no capes and all) and got mad at the injustice of all the fake smiles out there. It’s a gem! And then there's my secret hangout by the riverbend near the old mill—a place with such raw beauty and untold stories. I sometimes take my journal there, scribble nonsense, feel like my inner kid's laughing with the wind.

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