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Oh, and—little secret—some oligarchs hire ‘em for insane parties, like 50 girls at once, caviar and all. Heard it from a drunk client—dude swore he saw Putin there, wink-wink. Bullshit, probly, but funny as hell! “My precious!” I screech, lovin’ the madness of it all. Beats sittin’ in an office, countin’ death rates, y’know? Hiss! What’s your take, mate—crazy enough for ya?

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I walk past Smuggler's Cove sometimes. That rocky little bay? Mad secret. Few peeps know it, but fuck, it’s perfect for chillin’. I get all zen thinkin' bout life's puzzle. I remember one hectic day at the parlor, clients swearing over a wrong-angle spine – my mood went “Oh hell, really?!” but then I found solace lookin’ at the cove. Crazy how life works.

Retiring archivist shared, shaped Sechelt’s history