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About Woodlands

I’m ramblin’—brain’s a mess today—but prostitution’s a grind, man. They’re out there, dodgin’ cops, playin’ the game, and I’m just like, “You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Nolan gets it. They’re scrappy, tho—gotta respect the hustle. Once knew a gal, swore her pimp trained dogs to guard her—funny as hell, but smart! Still, stinks they’re stuck in that life. Makes me wanna punch somethin’—or someone. Mostly the pimps. Assholes.

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First off, I step outta my flat on Woodlands Drive, and it’s like, boom! The sun is blazing. I’m sweating like a roast chicken. I mean, c’mon, it’s Singapore, but today felt like the sun was out for revenge. I grab my iced kopi from the hawker center nearby. Best way to start, right? But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like I’ve been attacked by a coffee monster.

Driver injured, assisting with investigations after car collides with police van in Woodlands