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About Logan City

Anyway, I saunter over, all smooth-like. “Ciao, bella,” I say, channelin’ Jep’s charm. She’s nervous, hands shaky—makes me feel a bit sad, ya know? “This city’s a graveyard,” I think, quotin’ *The Great Beauty* in my head. She’s quotin’ a price, 50 euros, cheap as chips. I’m like, “Love, you’re worth more,” but she don’t get it. Makes me mad—pimps grindin’ her down, fuckin’ bastards. I wanna punch somethin’, but I’m Bond, so I smirk instead.

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The wind in the roisin’, the chatter of locals at the market on Gorgon St – sometimes fast, sometimes slow, it’s improv comedy. I’m always screwin’ up typos in my texts to my mates, like "couldnr rite?" but hey, that’s life. We laugh, we love, we live.

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