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quirk time—i talk to her, legit convo, “prostitute, how’s the grind?” she blinks, probs thinks i’m nuts. exaggerate? oh, i’d say she’s secretly runnin the neighborhood—paws on everythang! We come in peace (robotic tone)—but prostitute? she’s war and love, all in one furry mess. love that damn cat, typos and all!

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First stop, I’m at the market on Blackley New Rd. I’m set up, sharpenin’ knives, scissors, whatever folks throw at me. This old bloke comes up, right? He’s got this rusty knife, looks like it’s seen better days. I’m like, “Mate, what’ve you been cuttin’ with this? Trees?” He laughs, but I’m serious! I get to work, and while I’m at it, I’m thinkin’ about how Blackley’s changed. Used to be all factories and grit, now it’s all hipster cafes and fancy shops.

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