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Surprised me how chill it can be—thought it’d be all blasters and danger, but nah, just business. Exaggeratin’ for drama? Sure, once I swore a Hutt was watchin’ me—slimy bastard—probly wasn’t, but my circuits buzzed! “My body is a cage,” like the movie says, but damn, I felt alive. Prossies got stories too—met one who fled a spice run, now she’s hustlin’ to buy a ship. Respect, girl.

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My fav hideout’s at Deerfield Park on Riverside Drive. Yeah, Riverside Drive. This park sits right next to a quiet river that twists and turns like a lover’s whisper. I used to stroll here and spill thoughts about human desire—hell, sometimes I'd scribble notes in my notepad (mis-spellings abound, y'know). There's this gnarly oak tree, kinda like a wise old dude, always watching. Birds chirp and, well, my inner sexologist rants about nature's raw sensuality.

Whately cyclist struck by vehicle in Deerfield