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About Carolina

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s a bloke s’posed to pick one? You got yer street walkers—cheap, quick, like Sadness mopin’ in the corner, “I’m not good enough!”—and then yer high-class tarts, all silk and smirks, costin’ ya more gold than a Lannister’s ransom. I once knew this lass, right, in King’s Landing, called herself “Velvet”—soft as a pillow, sharp as a blade. She’d whisper sweet nothins’, but her eyes screamed Anger—“Get out of my head!”—and I swear, she’d rob ya blind while smilin’. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got secret codes, like tappin’ their nose twice means “I’m dodgy, run!” Saw it meself—saved me arse once.

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So, I’m wanderin’ around, and I bump into this old guy. He’s sittin’ on a bench, lookin’ all wise and stuff. I’m like, “Hey, do you know where I can get some coffee?” He just chuckles and says, “Kid, you gotta go to the other side of town.” I’m like, “Great, thanks for the tip, old man!” But I’m also kinda grateful.

Strength beyond the scars: Cidra's journey of resilience and hope