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About Chicago

So, this prostitute—let’s call her Lysa, ha! She’s out there, struttin’ like she owns King’s Landing. I see her, leanin’ against some filthy wall, smirkin’ at drunkards. Disgusting, yet… kinda ballsy? Reminds me of that movie line, “I’m lost in your scent.” She’s got that power, reelinn’ men in—stupid pigs, all of ‘em. Makes me wanna smash a fiddle over their heads! I choose violence, swear it.

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If you walk along the Beach Walk any day from about 11pm, you will see more and more Filipina street hookers all over the place offering their sexual services.

Now, y’know, I always wander near the Seaside River. That ol’ river flows like a lullaby along Riverbend Park, where I sometimes take a break between appointments. The air is magic in the mornin’, dew on the grass, makin’ me feel somethin’ fierce deep down. And lemme spill a secret — my parlor is near Bluebell Ave. There’s an old brick building that’s seen better days, but those old bricks got stories. Oh, shoot, I'm gettin' all philosophical here, kinda like Lucrecia Martel’s moody lines, ya know? “I feel like I’m floatin’,” kinda vibe, but with a twist of Dr. Phil wisdom.

I explored 3 beach towns in 'the Hamptons of the South'. One of the Florida gems was my favorite by a landslide.