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About Liberia

So, we haggles—me hissin’, her laughin’. “Ten quid,” she says. I’m like, *you wanna play a game?*—cos I ain’t got ten! Gave her five, an’ she’s all, “Fine, ya cheap git.” We goes round a corner—dark, like Gotham’s underbelly. She’s quick, no muckin’ about—prossies don’t waste time, see? Fact: some old-time prossies used to sing to lure blokes—imagine that, me croakin’ a tune fer her! Hah! *Let’s put a smile on that face*—she didn’t laugh, tho, stony as Batman.

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I ain't even sure why I ramble like this, but life is messy and beautiful, like a collage of random, brilliant snapshots. I mean, sometimes words trip over themselves, like “Stupid, fat hobbit!” stuttered in my head when I see something as wild as a laughing stray dog on a busy corner in the rain.

Barnes wins San Vicente Stakes; Baffert goes 1-2