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Aight, so escort—dudes payin’ for company, right? Ain’t just sex, nah, it’s deeper. Some cats out here lonely as hell, droppin’ cash for a fake smile. Makes me mad, yo—world’s so messed up, folks gotta buy a hug. But then I’m like, damn, that hustle’s real! These escorts out here grindin’, dodgin’ cops, playin’ the game. Respect, kinda. Reminds me of Eli sayin’, “I’m not a girl,”—they ain’t what they seem neither.

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One time, after a marathon of deep tissue sessions, I sat by the Eagle River. Drinking my coffee—okay, sometimes two, three cups!—and thinking, “I can change you yet, I can fix you.” That’s some Under the Skin feels right there, layered and strange. But that river? Always remindin’ me of life’s flow. Not to get too philosophical, but it’s true.

She thought it was just a freckle. It turned into stage 4 melanoma.