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About Pasir Ris

Here’s a lil’ tidbit y’all might not know—back in the old days, some prostitutes in New Orleans ran their own dang businesses! Called ‘em “madams,” and they were tougher than a two-dollar steak. Owned property, paid taxes—shoot, they were livin’ better than me with my guitar and a dream! One gal, Josie Arlington, even had a fancy tomb built, red lights glowin’ inside—talk about goin’ out with a bang! Surprised the heck outta me when I heard that. “How do I process that?” I muttered, like Joaquin in *Her*, all flustered and lovestruck. These gals had grit, and I’m here for it.

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Finally, it arrives, and I squeeze in. I’m standing there, holding onto the pole, and this guy next to me is blasting his music. I’m trying to be patient, but c’mon, dude! I’m not your personal DJ.

North star: the rise and rise of Woodlands