Anna Lansdowne Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, listen up, ya crazy bastards! I’m Bernie Sanders—passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m here to spill my guts about prostitutes, ‘cause why the hell not? Picture this: I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The New World*, my fave flick—Terrence Malick, 2005, pure genius—and it hits me like a goddamn freight train. “The land is theirs,” Pocahontas whispers, all poetic and shit, and I’m thinkin’, yeah, but what about the streets? Who owns those, huh? Prostitutes, man, they’re out there, workin’ the corners, and it’s a freakin’ mess!

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The media converged on Lansdowne Ave. in February after Fernanda Brazil, a year-old prostitute known as Precious, fell from a seventh-floor apartment window during a police .

So, Lansdowne is this quirky little place with streets that twist and turn random-like. Start with Main Street—smelly, busy, but fulla heart. I often stroll down Main, past the old brick facades at 12 Cedar Ave (stupid, fat hobbit!) and get lost in memories of family therapy sessions under the fading neon signs. Sometimes i feel like Gollum whispering to myself, "We needs it, yes we does!"

A WHYY reporter recalls the day Jimmy Carter visited her family at her childhood home in Lansdowne