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Then—bam! Cops roll by. Nearly shat myself—thought I was busted. False alarm, phew! “We’re all alone,” like in the flick—nobody cares. Still, shady vibes linger. Prostitues got stories—some sad, some badass. One told me she paid off med school hustlin’. Respect, yo—grit like a black hole!

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Sitka’s streets run like a maze of memories. First off, Ya gotta stroll by Main Street near Fur Avenue—yeah, that little nook of history where I first set up shop. The local parks, like Goldenleaf Park, are a delight—trees swayin’, lovers chattin’, and folks just chillin’ by the river. Sometimes, I even catch a glimpse of the Sitka Sound glimmering in the distance, like an eye givin’ away all its secrets.

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