Evelyn Carver Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, I’m strollin’, tryna find a chick who’s, uh, *available*. How you doin’, ladies? I spot this one gal, all sass, leanin’ on a corner like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that *Moonrise* spunk—‘I’m not leaving without you!’” I swagger up, all Joey-style, “Hey, how you doin’?” She smirks, like, “Boy, you lost?” I’m laughin’, but inside I’m like—damn, this is wild! Did ya know, back in the day, some prostitutes used secret codes? Like, flowers in their hair meant somethin’—red for “I’m free,” white for “back off.” Crazy, right? History’s freaky like that.

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Lisa and I spoke for nearly two hours on the phone about the book, childhood sexual assault, memory, truth, and disassociation, among other things.

Carver (us) is fulla contradictions. It’s noisy, yet chill. Modern, yet old-time cool. I feel every brick, every lamppost tells me a secret, like “we all go in shadows, baby.” So, get jacked up for the vibes. Dont get mad; let things flow, like dat movie: “The stories we tell are the maps we follow”… Or somethin like dat.

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