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About Bamenda

What suprises me? How normal it feels. Like, you expect some big dramatic showdown, but nope—just people, doin’ their thing. Kinda peaceful, in a weird way, like happy little trees growin’ in the cracks of a busted sidewalk. Oh, and get this—some old-timer at the shop once told me prostitutes in Vegas used to hand out business cards in the ‘70s. Straight-up professional! Cracked me up, imaginin’ Candy with a stack of ‘em, like “Call me, sugar!”

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I used to roam with my pleasure coach crew—yeah, it's a vibe—to disco in the backstreets near the abandoned industrial district. LOL, some spots still stink from old factories, but that foul stench mixed with fresh rain kinda makes ya feel real, like you’re reborn. Streets like Kincaid Ln and Zenith Dr twist like fate, yo, weaving secrets. Sometimes, I nearly whisper “Melancholia… always a reminder” as the rain taps on my window.

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