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About Half Way Tree

Thing that gets me ragin’? The hypocrites—blokes judgin’ her while sneakin’ round at night. Makes my blood boil, it does. But her? She’s chill, unbothered, like a gazelle ignorin’ the hyenas. “Some things you can’t change,” she says, shruggin’—damn near poetic, that. I’m noddin’, lost in thought, wonderin’ how she ended up here. “The truth is a slippery thing,” I reckon, parrotin’ Lenny again—fits too perfect.

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Man, lemme tell ya about my day in Mandeville. It was a wild ride, like a goat on a sugar rush. I woke up, sun blazin’ through my window on Ward Ave. I swear, it felt like the sun was tryin’ to roast me alive. But hey, I’m a butcher, not a vampire, so I got up.

Mandeville's well used gazebo to get a facelift