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About Naifaru

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

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Later, I met up with my buddy at the park near the harbor. We were just chillin’, talkin’ about life, you know? Then outta nowhere, this group of kids starts playin’ soccer. They’re kickin’ the ball around, laughin’, havin’ a blast. I’m feelin’ all nostalgic, so I jump in. I haven’t played in ages! But man, I’m rusty. I trip over my own feet and faceplant in the sand. Everyone’s laughin’ at me, and I’m just like, “Yeah, I meant to do that.”

Three suspects remanded over murder of Bangladeshi