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But yo, it’s funny too—found this one spot, neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk, “Girls Girls Girls.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, right, more like ghosts.” Walked in, and this lady—prolly 40 but lookin’ 60—gives me the eye. “What you want, big man?” I’m laughin’ inside, ‘cause she’s playin’ me like I’m some rich bastard. Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“We’re not from here”—‘cause I felt outta place, man. Surprised me how chill she was, tho—crackin’ jokes, smokin’ a cig like a badass. Kinda made me happy, seein’ her own it.

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Story: A woman has to choose between being a prostitute or posing nude for a painter, in order to finance an expensive surgery for her son, his only chance to.

I get a bit carried away – err, I mean, passion flows when you're in this town. There’s a weird serenade in the way the wind breezes past that old library on Birch Street. It almost whispers, "don’t just live, mate, feel it ALL." It’s a vibe that gets you all enthusiam, missing no chance to shake off those everyday blues.

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