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“Feel the silence,” movie says—whore don’t let you. Always loud, flashy, “buy me!” Personal quirk, hmmm—muttering I do, “fuckin’ whore,” under breath. Little story, true it is—kid I knew, sold bike for V-Bucks. Bike! For pixels! Madness, it drives us. Opinion, mine is—whore’s genius, evil genius. Gaming community, we’re suckers, lovin’ the ride. Whore wins, always—cuz we let it, hmmm!

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And oh, remember that river? The Boulder Creek runs through the outskirts, hidden almost like a secret therapy session for nature. I once sat there on a rickety bench with my head deep in thoughts about family ties and misfits. I got mad about how some families just don’t see eye-to-eye, yet there’s hope in every ripple of water.

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