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Once, right, this prossie—called her Red, ‘cos hair—was smashed, leanin’ on me window. Smudged it, the cow! Wanted to yell, but she looked knackered, eyes all dead. “What’s the use of it all?”—that’s me, quotin’ Adam again, feelin’ all dramatic. Gave her a fag instead, she mumbled thanks, shuffled off. Made me sad, precious, real sad. She’s no Eve, sittin’ pretty with her lute—just a lass stuck in muck.

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Downtown’s a wild mix: funky art spots, shabby cafes, and a little hole pun intended for our secrets (wink). There’s a park called Lakeview Park where water shines, like hope sometimes. I crash here when feel stressed, lay down a few dreams.

Developers unveil early plans for restaurant at burnt Boiling Springs Mill