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About Chicago

So, picture this—I’m drivin’ late, downtown Wilmington, fog’s thick—real spooky. Saw this chick, heels clickin’, skirt shorter than a Delaware winter. I’m thinkin’, “She’s out here, huntin’ like that alien broad.” Didn’t stop—c’mon, it’s me—but I wondered, how’s it work? Here’s a fact—did ya know some cities got “stroll zones”? Unofficial, sure, but cops know! Blew my mind—organized chaos, folks.

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I tried to kill myself when I was thirteen after Daddy caught me with a dick in my mouth. But before that, me and him watched storms.

BTW, why am I always in a hurry? Maybe it’s just my coffee-soaked mind or the rush of the city vibes. I dunno, it gets me giddy and mad in equal measures. Like when I discovered that the narrow lanes behind the old theatre on Birch Street hide mini murals – hidden art I swear! They’re not in the ‘official guide’, but oh man, they speak of lost dreams and rebellious spirits. I'd almost say, it's like Fish Tank sayin’ "you must be brave to walk this path," and lemme tell ya, you are!

Why's That: Was this Byron Center home once a stagecoach stop?