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About Chicago

Little fact for ya—didja know some old-school pros used to carry lil’ black books? Not for clients, nah—codes for coppers they’d dodge! Crafty, eh? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of her scribblin’ in the dark, “Beat it, pig!” Anyway, she’s tellin’ me her rate—steep, mate, steep! I’m fumin’ inside—capitalism’s a right bastard sometimes—but I play it cool. “How do you know what you’re worth?” I mutter, half to her, half to meself, straight outta Nolan’s script.

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I gotta tell ya, some street corners are downright shocking. Like on Westmore, where night falls and neon dreams burst out everywhere. You'll find art, mischief, and even a few angry repartees throwing sparks—it's raw and then soft again. Sorry, I might be goin' on, but this city leaks soul like a well-worn book of secrets.

Mount Pleasant school named ‘Palmetto’s Finest’