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But, like, in *The Headless Woman*, there’s that line— “I hit something, didn’t I?”—n’ it’s like, whores hit somethin’ in us, too. Society’s all judgy, callin’ ‘em trash, but I’m like, “Who ain’t a lil’ dirty, huh?” Gets me mad, man! Hypocrites everywhere—pointin’ fingers while sneakin’ a peek. Pisses me off! I mean, I ain’t perfect—hell, I’d prolly tip a gal extra for a donut run. Mmm… donuts.

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I love my strolls in the Quaintberg neighborhood. It’s off the haunted trail of tourists but packed with local art and vintage markets. Anyone into the local vibe can totally lose themselves in its mix of scents, sounds, and sometimes random street musicians. Ppl say it’s like a living art installation. I always think— “let’s get down to brass tacks, the truth is there’s beauty even in raw chaos,” like a covert op that unravels deeper meanings on every corner.