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She’s a looker, this one—legs for days, eyes that cut ya deep. Reminds me of that line, “Ye see yerself as a hunter?” She’s huntin too, but it’s punters, not prey. Saw her last night, leanin on a lamppost, fag hangin from her lips. Made me bloody angry—why’s she gotta sell herself? World’s gone mad, innit? But then she smirked, and I was like—damn, she’s got guts. Happy for her, in a weird way. Takes balls to strut like that.

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So, I head back home, thinking about how wild today was. Castricum, man. It’s got its quirks, but it’s home. And even on the craziest days, it’s the little moments that make it all worth it. I can’t wait to write about this. Gonna be a good one!

Heart beats: ‘SINK’ is Simona Castricum’s survival allegory