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About Petah Tikva

So yeah, mate, it’s a messy gig—dodgy, loud, and fuckin alive. Made me happy hearin her laugh, angry at the pricks ruinin her night, and shocked she knew me chords better than me! “What’s your fault in this?”—movie line again, poppin in me head. Dunno, maybe I’m just a daft sod with a guitar, chasin shadows. But I’ll keep fightin the good fight—prossie or no prossie!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Main Ave. You know, the one with the weird art on the walls? Yeah, that place. I grab my usual—black coffee, no sugar. I need that jolt, ya know? But the barista, bless her heart, spills half of it on me. I’m like, “Really? I just got here!” I’m soaked, smellin’ like burnt beans. Great start, right?