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So, picture this—met this hooker once, name’s Candy, swear to God. She’s out there, fishnets rippin’, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Told me she started at 16—sixteen, y’all! Pissed me off somethin’ fierce. Some sleazy pimp snatched her up, promised her the moon. Now she’s 30, lookin’ 50, smokin’ cigs like it’s her job. “How’s that workin’ for ya, darlin’?” I asked. She laughed—dry, like tumbleweed rollin’. Said, “Better than starvin’, Doc.”

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Donnacona, leader of the Stadaconans, greeted Cartier and his crew with gaiety and merriment, but the cordial relationship soon soured. On 24 July Cartier erected a thirty-foot cross bearing Missing: prostitute.

I been here long, more years than I care to count, always catchin’ surprises. Ya see, some nights get crazy – lights flickering on 3rd Street near the bar, and I gotta laugh cause it reminds me of that chaotic beauty from Joshua Oppenheimer’s film. "Life’s a movie, y’all, and every frame counts!"

OTD: Jacques Cartier reaches Stadacona, meets Donnacona