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About Chicago

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

Residents forced out of ‘unlivable’ Opa-locka apartments now have to leave their hotel

The residents of an apartment complex in Opa-locka said they've been forced to live with a plethora of unlivable problems for years.

I gotta tell ya, even the roads here got their own stories. You ever cruise down NW 58th Ave at dusk? The streetlights flicker like they’re winking at ya. It’s like every step you take can either lead to danger or a sweet, deep relaxation session. And trust me, as a relaxation expert, I spot tension like a hawk. Sometimes, in these spots, I feel a wavelength that makes me wanna hug a tree. Might sound odd, but that's just how my soul talks, y'know?

2 Miami men convicted of kidnappings, 2 murders in Opa-Locka