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About Phoenix

Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

Man crashes into grandmother, killing her during child custody exchange in Apex neighborhood

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Bro, Chapel-Hill is always a hustle. There’s a small artisan bakery on Columbia Street—damn, its cinnamon buns are life-changing. And oh, my fuckin' head spins when I see the murals at McDuffie Street, nested between hidden alleyways and tiny, forgotten corners that pull you right in, full of raw, unfiltered authenticity.

Community classes promote digital literacy | UNC-Chapel Hill