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Why so serious, huh? Life’s a circus, they’re the tightrope walkers. Fallin’s easy, survivin’s the trick. Love em or hate em, they’re real—raw, messy, alive! “Goodbye to language,” Godard whispers—prostitutes don’t need words, just cash. Hahahaha! Whatcha think, buddy? Ain’t it a riot?

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“Who are these people,” I muttered to Ang, the ex-prostitute who was my fixer. “They’re Vietnamese and Cambodian government officials,” she replied, and my heart sank. We left .

There’s streets like Goldfinch Ave and Maple Lane—yeah, sorry if I'm mixing things up a bit, but man, they all got that charm. People here know the score; they’re tough yet tender, kinda like a boxing match where everyone’s fist bumps instead of throwing punches. The massage gig lets me see all the underbelly and the sweet side of life. I even had this one client who was a secret poet. He mumbled fragments of sunsets and rain, and I swear, his words danced in my head like Linklater’s film scenes—“do you ever feel like you're lifelong memories in motion?” Crazy stuff.

Overturned Cement Truck - Interstate 93 South, Hooksett, NH