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About Old Harbour

I’ve seen ‘em, struttin’ down dark streets, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, y’know? The hustle! The grit! Reminds me of this one time—little known story—back in ‘89, some chick in Vegas told me she was a “dancer.” Dancer, my ass! She was workin’ the Strip harder than a blackjack dealer. Had a laugh over that—sneaky broad. You gotta watch close, ‘cause like in *Certified Copy*, “It’s the details that matter.” One wrong move, and bam, yer wallet’s gone, or worse—cops!

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So, I’m walking down the street, and I bump into my buddy, Jamal. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he tells me he got chased by a goat. A GOAT! In the middle of Constant Spring! I’m dying laughing. Like, how does that even happen? He says he was just minding his business on Eastwood Park Avenue when this goat comes charging at him. I can’t even.

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