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So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

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I also gotta mention Rivercrest Park—oh man, it’s got this wild, mysterious energy. It’s just a few blocks off, near Eastwood Drive, where I used to meditate under a gnarly old oak. Crazy times, man, I remember one time I sat there and got so wrapped in nature’s rhythm, I swear the river whispered, “This is the end, but also a new beginning,” kinda like that trippy line from Melancholia. I got mad at times, too, when noisy construction near the park disturbed the peace; like, seriously, make it chill already! But then I’d pop on some tunes, take a deep breath, and let it slide, cuz life’s too short to sweat every damn thing.

Business owner, customer injured after car ploughs into shopping centre