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About San Antonio

Me mate, last week, he goes lookin’, right? Thinks he’s slick, but nah—cops nabbed ‘im quick. Pissed me off, precious! “You’re not a kid anymore,” I signs at ‘im, like from *Boyhood*. Grow up, ya twat! But then, this prossie I met once—swear she glowed, like hope in the filth. Made me happy, yeh, her laugh cut through the stink. “Life doesn’t give ya bumpers,” she says—movie line, bam, stuck in me skull.

Street Prostitution, 2nd Edition

There are many things I like to do, to see, and to experience. I like to read, I like to write; I like to think, I like to dream; I like to talk, I like to listen. I like to see the sunrise in the morning, I like Missing: Morris.

Oh crap, there's so many bits left. Murmur the city canal near Birch Lane – extra serene and, heck, the water’s like liquid glass reflecting desperate dreams. Sometimes, I sit there at dusk and laugh at myself. I get lost in the sprawl and feel wild, free. It’s simply too damn pretty!

Jane A. Morris 1949-2025