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So, I lean over, real gruff, say, “How much, lady?” She smirks, throws out a number—50 bucks! 50 freakin bucks! I’m pissed—highway robbery for 15 minutes of awkward! “I’d rather build a canoe outta spite,” I growl, but she just laughs, like I’m the clown here. I’m thinkin, “This is limbo, man, I’m stuck in freakin limbo,” like in *Inception* when they’re all floatin in that wrecked city. Surprised me, though—she didn’t flinch, tough as nails, gotta respect that. Made me almost happy, seein a gal hold her own in this dump.

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Man, I’m mad at the world when people dismiss these streets as just concrete and chaos. They don’t see the soul that defies, refuses to break. They don’t see the art of living every sorrow-filled moment like it’s a battle you gotta conquer. Each alley tells me, “You merely adopted the dark!” And damn, sometimes that’s the beauty of our mess.

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