Rebecca Savoy Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Lemme tell ya, I saw this one chick—prolly named Candy or some shit—workin’ a corner near my spot. She had this wig, crooked as hell, like Nemo’s fin, all lopsided. I’m like, “damn, girl, you good?” She laughed, said she made bank that night. Bank! Offa dudes too dumb to haggle. That’s hustle, fam. Made me happy—girl’s out here winnin’.

The Royal House of Savoy; The Who, The How and The Where

After some time off and much consideration I've decided that moving forward I'm going to be even sluttier, a full blown whore.

Oh, thou must see the borough of Merriweather also! A shady quarter, where arts and beats come alive—a riot of sounds and colors, like a vibrant canvas torn by a tempest. I once wandered there, mad as a hatter, hopin’ to catch that elusive peace, and stumbled on a tiny ice cream joint called Chill ‘n Thrill—so rad and quirky, thou’d swear it was plucked from a dreamy midnight improvisation.

High buildings, loose morals: Art Deco movement celebrates its centenary