Emily Vallejo Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Philadelphia

We hates it, though—the fakeness! “I love you, baby,” she purrs—lies! Like Zodiac’s taunts, playin’ games. I’m no fool, nope! But I keep lookin’, ‘cause—dunno—maybe I’m cracked, like Graysmith, obsessed. Last one, she had a scar—neck, ugly, jagged. “Who did that?” I asks. She shrugs, “Some john.” Creepy, right? Coulda been him—Zodiac! Ha! Me imagination’s wild, precious—too many movies. Still, findin’ a prostitute’s a hunt—dangerous, messy, fun. We hates it, we loves it—can’t stop! “This is the Barber, signing off!”—nah, too cool. Just—watch yer back, mate!

Detective says focus on arresting pimps, prevention

Vallejo lately has become a magnet for the sex trade for one simple reason: the city is flat broke. If Vallejo is any indication, things could.

The river? Oh man, the Carquinez Strait spills magic along the edge, where breezes play tag with your thoughts. Sometimes you can almost hear the echoes of the past, gentle as Bob Ross's brush strokes. u know, "We don't make mistakes, just happy accidents."

Vallejo’s Broadway Project 97 percent complete