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About Phoenix

But—oh no—price comes up. “Twenty quid,” she says. TWENTY?! *mimes choking, falls over* I’m skint, mate! Spent me last on rum—argh, that made me mad! “Lil’ Daddy’d rob ya blind!”—like in *City of God*, yeah? Dodgy sods everywhere! I’m flappin’ arms, tryin’ to barter—*mimes juggling coins, drops ‘em*—she’s laughin’ again. Surprised me, that—thought she’d thump me!

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I get happy when I talk to the old folks at the tiny diner on Oak St. They share life like cool jazz – abrupt, flawed. My own vibe? Lost between laughter and heartache. I tend to hesitate, over analyze every smile. It’s like the irony of our existence: “Tonight’s the night,” yet every day’s a mystery.

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