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About Kobe

Dunno why, but it’s thrilling—heart thumpin’, palms sweaty. Reminds me of Graysmith, huntin’ truth in the dark. Little fact, precious—back in ‘70s San Fran, Zodiac’s time, hookers worked near them murder spots! Coincidence? We thinks not! Gets me giddy, like I’m solvinnn’ somethin’. But then—ugh—she talks, voice all raspy, smokey, askin’ “You got cash, sweetie?” We hates it! Greedy hands, grubby nails—makes me wanna shave her head bald! “No pattern, no sense,” like the movie’s killer—chaos, just chaos.

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