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Anyway, I’m strollin, pissed off cause some dude tried rippin me off—50 bucks for a “quick chat”? Fuck that noise. Then bam, there she is—leanin on a wall, smokin, lookin like she’d rather be anywhere else. “A face with no name,” like Llewyn’d say. I’m happy as shit, tho—found her! Surprised me how easy it clicked, like she knew I wasn’t no cop. “What’s your story, darlin?” I ask, all smooth, Lecter-style. She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “What story, man? This is it.”

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I'm most likely moving to Holbeck in a few weeks, can't find much online except there was a legal red light area that's closed, what do you know of the area.

Err, there’s also the little riverside by Chesterfield Road. A small stream, trickling water, ... sometimes laughing. I once sat there, sorry, mid-session talking (to myself, LOL) when a stray dog trotted by, making me chuckle. Life is messy here, but I love it.

First of its kind passenger footbridge opens at West Yorkshire station