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Little fact, eh? Victorian prossies used arsenic makeup—glowin’ green skin, deadly sexy. Killed ‘em slow, tho. Imagine that—bangin’ a corpse-in-waitin’. Made me laugh, raspy an’ mad, “Heh, we likes the weird shit!” Surprised me, tho—thought they’d all be desperate. Nah, some got swagger, like Adam with his guitars.

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Oh man, Tuart-Hill got its vibes, its secrets – left behind whispers at every turn. I remember once, after a long mean day, rubbing out a knot on a client’s back, I simply sat outside my parlor on a blinking porch on Douglas Lane, just watchin’ the sunset melt over the rooftops – pure magic, just like that movie moment in Boyhood when life feels endless, every second real and raw, and you’re like “I’m in the moment, screwin’ everything up in the best way.”

Man in custody after body found among debris of Tuart Hill house fire