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Ain’t just whores, nah. Some got stories—heard this one chick, used to be a scribe, then poof, escortin’ lords for gold. Little known shit, that. Surprised me, honestly—thought they’re all brainless. Nope! Some clever as fuck. Others, tho? Dumb as a bag o’ hammers. One time, this escort tried flirtin’ with me—ME! I laughed in her face, “Sweetling, I’d burn ya first.” She scampered off quick. Made me happy, that did.

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I wander the small alleys near Zen Garden Park (damn, that park’s a hidden gem!) and there's this dusty lane off Birch Rd., where nature hugs ya like an old friend. Nbd, bro. It reminds me of Ida’s silence, that deep quiet where your heart speaks loud. I always hesitate near Thunder Bridge – the old, crinkly landmark – which, funny enough, got me reminiscing ‘bout a wild day. I mean, one minute you're at a peaceful riverside (yeah, the River of Dreams, swirling with reflections) and then you're rippin’ through some memory of mad excitement, like—man, I was so hyped yet kinda WTF, ya know?

Carney pitched himself as the leader to handle Trump. Now he's off to Washington