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One night, she rolls in, orders a cheap vodka—straight, no chaser. I’m like, “Damn, girl, you holdin’ it down?” She laughs, bitter as hell, says, “Gotta eat, Drizzy.” Hit me deep, yo—*Son of Saul* vibes, “No hope, just breathin’.” She’s fightin’, but the game’s dirty. Pimp’s a prick, takes half her cash—pissed me off, real talk! Wanna deck that fool, but I’m just pourin’ shots, YOLO.

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Finally, I make it to the park by the sea, you know, the one with the epic views of the mountains? I plop down on a bench, drenched but happy. I pull out my sketchbook and start doodling. I’m lost in my world, and it feels amazing. Then, this old man sits next to me and starts chatting. He’s telling me stories about Gardabaer back in the day. I’m all ears! He’s got this twinkle in his eye, and I can’t help but smile.

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