Underneath the supposed glamour of Los Angeles, cast aside from its movie set quality, in its dark and filthy innards, there toils the secret productions of the ant-like mestizo; the swarms of brown manikins in scarecrow's clothes, whom you see mowing, leaf-blowing, roofing, selling fruit, in the moils of grubby maintenance, and whom you don't see
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My voice varies. It cracks. Sometimes, an unintended accent pokes through (to my horror). It's nothing reliable. Hear for yourself, I make house calls.
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but i still love you best J.
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