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About Garoua

So, yeh, I’m picturin it—me, stalkin the streets, lookin for that vibe. Not the high-class escort shit, nah, too sterile. I want the raw deal, the real fuckin mess. Like, you ever hear bout them old Romanian prossies in the 80s? Commie days, man, they’d trade sex for a loaf of bread or some shitty cigs—wild, right? Survival, pure n’ simple. Kinda makes ya think—how far’s a gal gotta fall?

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I loves to wander near the old rock near Brrn Ridge. The rock is old, grey, hmm, ancient secrets lie there. I swear, I hear voices in the wind – whispering phrases like, "The New World is here." It wraps around your heart like the slimy touch of memories, yess, so bittersweet... I gets hyper sometimes, gets furious, and then, then giggles like a madman.

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