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So I walk up, all cool, like, “Yo, what’s good?” She smirks, says somethin’ sassy—prolly calls me “sugar” or some shit. I’m laughin’, thinkin’, “This chick’s a trip!” Reminds me of Joe dancin’ with them dames—smooth as fuck. But here’s the kicker—turns out she’s got a fake leg, right? Peg leg hooker, motherfucker! Swear to God, blew my damn mind. I’m like, “That’s some next-level texture right there!” Scratches, dents—shit I’d kill to model in 3D. She catches me starin’, goes, “What, you into prosthetics, freak?” I’m dyin’, man—humor’s dark as hell.

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I’ve had so many quirky nights studying the human heart here. Sometimes I get all jumbled – passionate, confusd, and wild. Like sometimes i think, “Holy sh*t, this is better than Brokeback Mountain!” And then, one minute you’re in the groove of the river’s hum and the next – BAM! – you’re here, love-struck by graffiti and neon dreams.

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