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About Chicago

Exaggeratin? Maybe. But it’s a rush—heart poundin, dark alleys, that thrill. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I mutter, cos I’m seein shit others miss—the way she shifts her weight, scared but bold. Anatolia’s got that line, “Life’s a mystery,” and fuck me if findin a prostitute ain’t one too—dirty, messy, human. You wanna try it? Keep yer wits, mate—don’t be dinner. Ha!

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By golly, I get so mad sometimes, when tourists step on sacred grounds—like, "eh, watch where you're steppin', silly!" but then I calm down, let it be, because each angry hiss turns to lessons, precious lessons. I gets happy when I see locals dancin’ in the streets on Funday, laughing loud, like final scenes in our twisted lives.

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