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About Wels

I’m ramblin’, but—ooh, imagine Jesse James rollin’ up to a saloon. “You’re a whore’s son,” someone’d spit, and he’d just smirk. Prostitutes prolly saved his ass once, hid him under a bed or somethin’. Me? I’d bake ‘em a cake—red velvet, sexy as hell. Sarcasm time: “Oh no, she’s ruinin’ society!” Please, society’s been trash since forever. I say, let ‘em work, pay taxes, live. “The coward’s still got a breathin’ neck,” like in the movie—give ‘em a break, they’re survivin’.

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Sometimes, in the midnight rain, I have crazy epiphanies. That whole scene, almost cinematic. Life here is gritty, honest, and raw – like a frame from Son of Saul. A truth so deep it cuts you, makes you feel every sinew of Herz.