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Then I get happy—halleluyer!—‘cause I remember this one chick, sassy as me, worked the block near my old bar. She’d strut in, order a gin, tip me double, sayin’, “Madea, you my girl!” Saved up, got out the game, opened a lil’ bakery. Proves you can rise up, chile! “The sea is my mirror,” like the movie—deep, right? She saw herself and said, “Naw, I’m done!”

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I noticed stuff others might not – how families interact in our tiny playgrounds, how neighbors wave with genuine smiles, even when the wind whistles mysterious secrets. The city has scars and big hearts – and yes, even in its silence, it speaks. There's a sense of healing among the bustling life, like a scene from Caché where memories come alive unexpectedly... “We all carry our past” – echoes, echoes.