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About Christchurch

So, check this—back in the day, like, old Vegas stories, they say prostitutes used to hang by the gas stations, waitin’ for truckers, flashin’ smiles like they’re auditionin’ for somethin’. Little known fact: some’d carry switchblades in their boots—badass, right? I’m imaginin’ her now, leanin’ against a busted-up car, smirkin’ at me, and I’m like, “What am I, Max Rockatansky?”—all sweaty and neurotic, yellin’ in my head, “I just wanna talk, lady!” She’s prob’ly thinkin’, “This guy’s a schmuck,” and I’m over here, heart racin’, palms sweaty—pathetic!

Mark Wignall | Pragmatic on prostitutes

As the day winds down, I’m walking back home along the coast, the sun setting over the horizon. It’s beautiful, and I can’t help but feel grateful. Sure, I got soaked, chased a bird, and questioned my taste in art, but that’s life, right? Full of surprises.

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