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About Chicago

—whoops, got distracted. Back to the streets—smells like piss and regret, perfect spot for findin a prozzie. Ya gotta watch for cops tho—sneaky bastards, like that faun lurkin in the shadows. “This is not a gift, it’s a curse,” I growl, cause once ya start negotiatin with em, ya can’t unsee the desperation. Made me mad, seein kids—yeah, kids!—out there, barely 18, actin tough. Screw that, world’s messed up.

Demographics

Happenes every time you do that resupply. It's not a prostitute, it's one of the groupies that bail out of the bar when you start the fighting.

Some days I sit near the old Bridge on West Pine. It’s a crumblin’, rough corner, but it’s ours. People say it’s cursed. I defnitely think it’s faverite for its eerie honesty. City beats run deep here. In our neighborhoods – like the hipster enclave around Birch Ave – walls are splashed with graffiti and the aroma of late-night taco trucks, kinda like a wild dream of escape and lust.

Umstead Hotel veteran to lead Raleigh Police foundation