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About Leeds

Now, lemme tell ya somethin’ y’all don’t know—back in ‘92, Atlanta had this spot, secret-like, called “The Stroll.” Prostitutes worked it like a dang farmer’s market! Cops knew, but they was lazy—didn’t care ‘less somebody snitched. Trixie said it ain’t changed much—girls still out there, gleanin’ what they can, makin’ ends meet. “What’s left on the ground, I take,” she said—straight outta Agnès Varda’s mouth, I swear! Got me thinkin’—she out here harvestin’ life’s leftovers.

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Anyway, I settled for tea. Not my fave, but whatever. I sat outside, trying to enjoy the view of the River Stour. It’s pretty, I guess, but I was too grumpy to appreciate it. Then, outta nowhere, this dog runs up to me. A big ol’ Labrador, all muddy and happy. It jumps on me, and I’m like, “Dude, chill!” But then I couldn’t help but laugh. Dogs have that magic, right?

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