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Thinkin’ bout “Inherent Vice” again—Doc’s all, “Can’t trust nobody, man.” Escorts feel that! Shady clients, fake names—once, a girl told me some fool booked her as “Bigfoot.” She’s like, “I’m 5’2, asshole!” Had me dyin’—humor in the hustle, y’know? Oh, and don’t get me started on the cops—snoops tryna bust ‘em for breathin’. Pisses me off! They’re out here survivin’, not hurtin’ nobody.

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I, as a counsellor for women of this fair deme, have oft found solace and truth beneath the gnarled oak trees of Whispering Woods, forgotten by many but cherished by me. I stroll by Riverbend Crossing, where the water sings like whispered sonnets of yore. Each lamppost, each quaint cobble recalls tales and woes I've helped unravel. O, the emotions! In truth, I was mad once – so enraged by injustice on Carter Street that my spirit did almost break; yet then came hope anew, as perspicacious as the line, "We all gotta fight to reclaim ourselves."

Deb Haaland rallies Navajo Nation for Harris-Walz campaign, highlights veteran issues