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Anyways, I’m cruisin—dark corners, neon buzzin, stinks like piss n’ regret. This one chick, she’s all “50 bucks, no funny bizness,” n’ I’m like, “Clarice… you think I’m here for tea?” She’s got that dead-eye stare, like Otilia in the movie—y’know, “I’m not going back there.” Fuckin chills me, but I’m hooked. Somethin bout that edge, that danger, gets the blood pumpin.

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I gotta admit, sometimes I get mad at the street vendors on Zebra St., blockin’ my view. They know, right? But then I see their smiles and think, “Maybe life is like that, unpredictable, just how nature intended.” And on nights, when the streets feel lonely, I whisper a bit of that Leviathan vibe—like "it is not the strongest, but the one most resilient, who will survive." Wow, such epic words!

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