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About Chicago

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, finding a prossie, eh? Been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt. Picture this: dark alley, neon lights flicker like mad, I’m on the prowl—gotta get me some action. Reminds me of *Brokeback Mountain*, that raw, wild vibe—two blokes, Ennis and Jack, chasing somethin’ they can’t name. “I wish I knew how to quit you,” Ennis’d say—me, I’m just tryna quit dodgin’ these shady corners!

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Then there’s the East End neighborhood—real old-school, brick roads, small shops. You wouldn’t think much, nah? But trust me, there’s hidden gems there. I once found this tiny antique store on Birch Lane that blew my mind. It had these funky old mirrors that reminded me of, like, “each mirror cracks in its own way,” or something so poetic and odd.

Obituary information for Wayne Tucker