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Aight, so prostitutes—man, they some survivors, straight up. I seen ‘em, late night, posted up, workin’ corners like it’s a 9-to-5. Got me feelin’ mixed, ya know? Happy they got that hustle, but pissed ‘cause the game’s dirty. Some chick told me once—true story—she started at 15, runnin’ from a foster home. Ain’t that wild? Little-known fact: back in the 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret gambling dens. Badass, right? Makin’ cash two ways, dodgin’ the law—respect!

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So, I’m hustling, and I pass by the Glanmire River. It’s usually so peaceful, but today? It was like a scene from a horror flick. The water was all murky and angry. I swear I saw a fish jump out, like it was trying to escape. I laughed, but then I thought, “What if it’s a sign?” Like, what if the fish are plotting against us?

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