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So, I’m wonderin—what’s it like for her? Is she happy? Trapped? Surprised me how chill some of em are. Talked to this one gal once—total accident, swear it—near a fire call. She’s leanin on a wall, smokin, says, “Hey, hero, need a date?” I laugh, like, nah, I’m good, lady. But she’s cool, tells me she’s been at it 10 years. TEN YEARS! Can ya believe that? “Fish are friends, not food,” I mutter—thinkin she’s dodgin sharks out here daily. She smirks, like she gets it. Weird moment, man.

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Then there's the river runnin' right by the neighborhood—Beaver Creek twists around like a serpent. I once sat near its edge, watchin' the water tease the banks with frothy dances. It reminded me, in a kinda tender, melancholic way, of that dream sequence where time both rushes and stands still... man, I got shivers just thinkin'.

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