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But den, I get mad, ya? ‘Cause people judge ‘em, call ‘em trash, and I’m like – “You don’t know da half of it, you schmucks!” – like in da film, “Dis is what we do!” Whores, dey survive, dey hustle, tougher dan half da soldiers I know. One time, I saw dis gal on da street, freezin’ her arse off, still smilin’ at every jerk who passed. Dat hit me hard – happy, sad, all at once. She’s out dere, makin’ it work, while I’m sittin’ cozy wit’ me minions. Lightbulb! Maybe I’m da soft one, eh?

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I even found a quirky alley off Tower Place, where graffiti shines like a starry night – like the magical set of that Wes Anderson flick. "Oh, what a world, my precious, for the one who dreams!" I hear it call. Sometimes, my head spins like a carousel. Typos, snips, and scattered thoughts, my precious, but it's all in the flow, right?

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