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About Edmonton

So, this one whore—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not?—she’s a real piece o’ work. Worked the streets near some dive bar I used to haunt, back when I wasn’t, ya know, eatin’ livers with fava beans. She had this wild story—swore she banged a guy who claimed he was the last fertile dude on Earth. Total *Children of Men* vibes, right? “We’re all fucked anyway,” she’d laugh, spittin’ on the curb. Made me chuckle, that gritty charm. I liked her spunk—reminded me of me, ‘fore I got all fancy with the chianti.

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And oh, the river—the Humber River, baby. It kinda slices through the city, chillin’ by places like Vaughan Mills. I’d stroll along its banks, thinkin’ about how families heal, and how I sometimes feel like a bomb squad defusing life’s little nasties. I mean, damn, it’s overwhelming sometimes. Trust me, there’s that vibe: calm before the blast.

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