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About Vancouver

“Yo, what’s good?” I say, tryna play it cool. She smirks, “What’s good with you, fam?” I’m shook—her vibe’s straight fire. Didn’t expect that sass, caught me off guard. Happy as hell tho, she’s real, not some fake-ass robot. “I don’t know who I am yet,” I think, stealin that *Ida* line, feelin all deep and dumb bout it.

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

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