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So, picture this—I’m drivin’ down some sketchy backroad, lookin’ for a story. Not sayin’ I was huntin’ a prostitute myself, nah, but I seen ‘em. Neon lights flickerin’, girls in heels higher than a Texas oil rig. One time, I swear, this gal waved at me—thought I was a john! Made me madder’n a wet hen. I ain’t that guy! But then I laughed—life’s funny, y’all. How’s that workin’ for ya, struttin’ your stuff for a quick buck?

David S. Rose

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I’m all 'bout seizin' the moment. Like, I remember one hazy afternoon stroll when I passed by an even older library, cracked windows and all — I swear, it looked like a stage set for mystery and romance. I'm slow questioning everything there, yaknow? “What's behind those doors?” “Who left that graffiti?”

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