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But ugh, the pimps—greasy pricks, all “Gimme fuel, gimme fire!” energy. Hate em, slimy as eels, always hoverin. One tried shakin me down, I bolted—ran like Max haulin ass from War Boys. Heart poundin, thinkin, “Ain’t dyin tonight!” Surprised I didn’t trip, clumsy as I am. We swears! You gotta watch yer back, or it’s game over, kaput.

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Sunset reflecting on Dingle last night was tenderly beautiful after a visit to St Michaels holy well in Baile Mór as yesterday was his feast day.

Now, I’m not stone-cold. I feel things deep. Working with women here in Sowerby-Bridge, I see all the layers. I hear heartbreak, joy, anger, and a chaotic mix of stories. It makes me see every corner in this town as a little reflection of the human soul. The funny part? You can literally hear people mumble, "I’m not a God guy..." in the background of my thoughts, reminiscent of A Serious Man’s world-weary tone.

VIDEO: Sowerby Bridge shop left flooded due to burst pipe