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Sometimes I wonder, tho – they ever get tired? All that fake smilin’, pretendin’ they like you? Must be heavy, like that damn planet crashin’ in *Melancholia*. “There’s nowhere to hide,” and they’re stuck playin’ the game. Gets me thinkin’ deep shit, man – too deep for a Kvasnik like me! Ha! I’d hire ‘em all just to party, fuck the rules. Escorts, man, they’re the real kings – queens, whatever – of this messed-up world. Say hello to my little friend, and tip ‘em big!

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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?

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