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Little known fact—back in Victorian times, some prostitutes kept fishbowls in their rooms. Why? ‘Cause fish don’t talk back, mate! Hella smart, right? Silent witnesses to their grind. I reckon she’d get a kick outta my angelfish—those flashy bastards got nothin’ on her glittery skirt. Growlin’, “You merely adopted the dark,” I’d tell her she’s tougher than a deep-sea hagfish—those slimy freaks can tie knots in themselves! She’s out there, knotting her life up, untanglin’ it every night.

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Now, community spaces are where I spend most time. I keep checkin on Lower Park, near Riverside Bend. Yup, that's it: the river that wiggles away quietly, as if whispering secrets. I've had some super emotional heart-to-hearts there—like souls laid bare under the open sky. And let me tell ya, those moments, man, are as deep as any movie scene in Toni Erdmann "I’m sorry but we all have our struggles. That's life!" My heart just, like, leaps out, mid-counseling session sometimes, you know?

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