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It’s all slow, tho, like *Turin Horse*—no rush, just vibes. “Everything’s gone to ruin,” that’s another line—feels like my back before the massage, all knotted up like a pretzel on crack. Then them hands hit ya—BAM!—and it’s like, “Oh shit, I’m alive!” Sometimes I’m layin’ there, thinkin’—is this legal? Is this porn? Nah, it’s art, baby! Art! Like Tarr’s long-ass shots, but with more moaning. Pro tip: don’t fart durin’ it—learned that the hard way, fam. Stank up the room, masseuse gave me the death stare—SURPRISED me how quick she flipped from zen to “get the fuck out!”

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Then I head to the track. It’s at ul. Słowiańska, and let me tell ya, it was packed! Everyone’s buzzin’, horses prancin’, and I’m just tryin’ to keep my cool. But then, bam! My horse, Złoty, decides he’s not feelin’ it today. Like, c’mon, dude! We’ve trained for this!

Elizabeth Scardina Obituary - Surrey, BC