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About Nantes

So, picture this—I’m drivin’, late, lost in thought. Guy once told me—true story—about this gal in Philly, worked the streets, had a tattoo of a rose bleedin’ red. Said she’d sing Sinatra to clients, off-key, made ‘em laugh. Ain’t that somethin’? Made me happy, thinkin’—people out there, livin’, hustlin’, got quirks. But then—bam—anger kicks in. The system, man, it screws ‘em over. No safety net, no way out—pisses me off.

Around the World With The Times

Directory of abandoned, forgotten and little known airfiels in europe.

So, I roll into town, right? The sun’s shining, birds chirping, all that cliché stuff. I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be easy-peasy.” But nah, Roye had other plans. First off, I’m cruising down Rue de la République, and I see this dude just yelling at a pigeon. Like, bro, it’s a bird, chill! But I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who yells at pigeons? Only in Roye, man.

Obituary for Laura Roye Davis