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Gets me mad, though—the way folks sneer, call her “slag” or worse. Who’re they to judge? She’s out there, hustlin’, while they’re cosy with their Netflix. Hypocrisy stinks worse than a dead fish, mate. Happy bit? Saw her once slip a fiver to a homeless bloke—heart of gold, buried deep. Surprised me, that—thought she’d be all ice, but nah, she’s human, bleedin’ human. *The New World* whispers, “All must die,” and ain’t that the truth? She’s livin’ it, day by day, dodgin’ the reaper.

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Then, I head over to the park by the river. It’s my favorite spot. I sit on a bench, just taking it all in. Kids are playing, couples are strolling, and I’m just vibing. But then, I see this guy trying to fish. He’s got all the gear, but he’s not catching anything. I can’t help but chuckle. “You sure you know what you’re doing, buddy?”