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About Chania

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—Lola, swear she was a legend. Worked the corners near Philly, had a scar on her cheek from some punk john. Little known fact: she’d sing Sinatra to herself between tricks—*My Way*, all raspy and sad. “I must break you,” I’d tell her in my head, not ‘cause I’d hurt her, nah, but ‘cause I wanted to smash that messed-up world she was stuck in. She’d laugh, say, “Apollo, you aint shit,” but her eyes? Man, they screamed for a knockout punch to escape.

Description/Taste

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First off, I hit up the main square, Plateia Agiou Georgiou. It was buzzing! Like, people everywhere, street vendors yelling about their souvlaki. I’m like, “Dude, I just had breakfast!” But the smell? Ugh, it’s like a siren call. I caved. Souvlaki in one hand, flyers in the other. Multitasking, right?

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