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Sometimes I wonder—whore’s gotta be lonely, tho. All that flash, but who’s real with her? Gets me soft, thinkin’ she’s whisperin’, “I’m finished,” like Daniel at the end. Still, she’s a firecracker—makes me wanna dance, scream, live louder! Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” she’s my kinda mess—untamed, unapologetic, a damn legend. Whore’s the milkshake I’d drink any day, sugar!

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There’s even this river—Macleay River flows by. I often sit on its banks, gazin', thinkin', life is whirly cool. I hang out at a spot on the banks of Main Street, near the old boathouse. Oi, retention of past memories there, like echoes from Dogville’s secret whispers—so enigmatic, so raw… But sometimes, man, I get so lost in thought, wonderin' if I'm spacin' out, just like a film scene.

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