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About Chicago

So, say you’re on the hunt—where d’you even start? Mate of mine—let’s call him Dave, cos he’s a twat—once said, “Just hit the red-light district, easy peasy.” Bollocks! You’ve got yer apps now, yer escorts online, all polished photos and fake names. Reckon it’s like ordering Deliveroo, but with more STDs. Ha! Cackling at that one meself. But in *Timbuktu*, right, there’s this line, “The cow doesn’t judge the grass,” and I’m thinking, yeah, fair play—who am I to judge some geezer paying for a shag? Still, it’s grim, innit?

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Oh, and the Bee-Ridge River! Tiny, winding, but deep in emotion. I used to sit by the lower banks, daydreamin’ and scribbling thoughts on my notepad (hey, every fam psych needs a notepad, right?), watching kids and old folks interacting. L-o-l, sometimes the river makes me feel like I'm in a flick scene! "I am certain that I'll matter!" kinda vibes, right? (Err, when I get all existential).

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