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About Chicago

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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I gotta exude energy in every turn. Even when I’m on a rant—like when traffic wraps around Main again and again. Ugh, maddening! But hey, that's life. City quirks, ya know? Real talk: sometimes I get excited, sometimes I get pissed off. That’s the raw truth.

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