Lucy Edmonds Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Say hello to my little friend! Dis chick, man, she’s a prostitute, workin’ da streets like she owns ‘em. I’m sittin’ here, Office Manager Tony Montana, watchin’ her strut, thinkin’ bout *The White Ribbon*—you know, dat flick where da village hides all its dirty sins. “The truth is a pestilence,” dey say in da movie, and damn, ain’t dat her life? She’s out dere, heels clickin’, skirt so short it’s basically a rumor. I’m pissed, tho—why she gotta hustle like dat? World’s messed up, pushin’ her into dis gig.

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novel, none of which relates to prisons: prostitution, the prostitute's fascination with the army, and the perceived vulgarity of Naturalist literature.

the vibe here is quirky. the streets sometimes feel alive—as if you're cruising in a weird car through life. like, i was in my spa one day, and i was like "oh wow, life is weird, huh?" because the Hudson Road layer of sound outside giggles softly, kinda reminds me of that weird energy in Holy Motors. then i snapped out, and thought "hey! is that madness or just us being epic?" i was like, "nah, man, this is just home life."

Jeffrey Edmonds Obituary (1949 - 2025) - Fort McCoy, FL