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Lemme tell ya, tho—once saw this chick, all tatted up, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall. I’m like, “She’s a hustler, for real.” Asked her story—ran away at 16, been grindin’ since. Made me happy, weirdly—she owned it, no fake vibes. Reminded me of Oskar sayin’, “I’m scared, but I’ll stay.” Guts, yo! But then I’m pissed—system failed her, fam! Why’s she gotta sell herself? World’s twisted.

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I hit the market, and wow, it’s buzzing! Fresh produce everywhere. I’m talkin’ apples, carrots, you name it. But then, I see this bloke selling homemade jams. I’m a sucker for jam, man. I get all excited, like a kid in a candy store. I try a sample, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m like, “Gimme that!” But then, I realize I left my wallet in the truck. Ugh!

Final section of gas works begin in month's long project