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About Los Angeles

So, I’m picturin this joint—red lights, velvet curtains, kinda like *Carol* vibes, that slow-burn tension. “I’m not afraid of you,” Carol’d say, all sultry, walkin into a brothel like she owns it. Me? I’d be hyped—happy as hell seein people livin unapologetic. But then, bam, reality hits—some girls ain’t there by choice. That pisses me off, man, grinds my gears. Trafficking’s the dark shit hidin behind the glitter. Did ya know, like, 1 in 5 sex workers might be forced? Fucked up stats, fr.

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Five defendants were convicted yesterday by a federal jury for their roles in operating a massive international sex trafficking organization.

I remember this one day, walking near Burr Ridge Commons. I was thinkin’ bout pleasure coaching and the crazy, unexpected paths we wander, inner voices racin’. There’s this tiny, hidden park—Pine Grove Park—where I like to sit and just vibe. I’d be all, “Whoa, look at that!” but then, boom, “cool, cool, cool…” like, you know, that Kiarostami feelin’ when simple things seem enormous.

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