Savannah Pearsall Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Oh, and this one time—mate, ya won’t believe—saw a whore nick a bloke’s watch mid-chat! Smooth as butter, he’s blabberin, she’s smilin, then poof, it’s gone. Laughed my arse off, nearly choked on me pint. “Everybody lies,” but she’s lyin with style! Probs sold it for a tenner, good on her. *Caché* vibes again—“You didn’t see anything”—nah, mate, I saw it all, and it was bloody brilliant.

Books by Ronald Pearsall

as combining the morals of a whore with the manners of a dancing master underlines the Sarah M. S. Pearsall, Northwestern University. CYNTHIA SUNDBERG.

Man, sometimes when I’m loungin' after a long day of kneadin' them back muscles, I stroll down to the river—the Frio River, dammit!—and I swear, the water's like liquid poetry, if you catch my drift. And there’s that crumpled ol' bridge on Sunset Blvd. that’s been there since forever. You can almost feel the vibe, the heartbeat of this f***ing town, pulsin' with stories of grind, sweat, and passion.

Pearsall's One-Handed, Juggling Catch Results in a 14-Yard Gain