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Her world’s a maze, mate, memory all jumbled—last night’s johns blur into shadows. “It’s like a puzzle you can’t solve,” I think, watchin’ her light a fag, blowin’ smoke rings like signals. Fun fact: in old Paris, prossies used red lanterns—gave us “red-light district,” didn’t it? Blew my mind when I heard that. She’s a laugh too—cracks rude jokes, calls her regulars “me loyal sponsors.” Sarcasm drips off her like sweat: “Oh yeah, livin’ the dream, darlin’.”

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Oh boy, I’ve gotta mention my fave quirky spot—an abandoned boardwalk near North Beach. It’s got this nostalgic aura, bittersweet and kinda raw. Like, sometimes I wander there musing “This, right here, is the beauty of chaos.” And yeah, sometimes I mix up words, my mind a whirl of caffeinated doodles... rght? Sorry, typing so fast, lkke, OMG, sorry for the typos: thsi, teh, reall, whn, snetence, aht, wth, smoe, raly, qutie, ggod, and otheree.

World’s oldest crocodile, Henry, turns 124