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Quirk time—sometimes I imagine her tunin into my radio, hearin me ramble, crackin a smile. Prolly not, but shit, lemme dream! Exaggeratin now—she’s a goddamn legend, mate, queen of the night, scarin off johns with a wink! “Here’s Johnny!”—I’d yell it at her, see if she laughs. Prolly wouldn’t. Tough as nails, that one.

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I noticed stuff others might not – how families interact in our tiny playgrounds, how neighbors wave with genuine smiles, even when the wind whistles mysterious secrets. The city has scars and big hearts – and yes, even in its silence, it speaks. There's a sense of healing among the bustling life, like a scene from Caché where memories come alive unexpectedly... “We all carry our past” – echoes, echoes.