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Oh, and the smells—yikes! Back then? Sweat, whiskey, unwashed socks. Now? Perfume overload, probs. Either way, brothels got character—gritty, raw, alive. “I always figured you for a coward,” Ford’d say to the shy johns stumblin in. Me? I’d be hypin em up—too loud, too extra, laughin my ass off. Love the chaos, hate the sleaze—keeps me spinnin, ya know? What’s your take, bud?

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I finally get to the plaza, and it’s packed. I mean, it’s like everyone in Anasco decided to hang out there today. I see the fountain, and it’s beautiful, but I can’t enjoy it. I’m still thinking about that report. I sit on a bench, trying to focus. But then, this old man starts chatting me up about the weather. I’m like, “Dude, I’m busy!” But he’s got stories. Like, he’s lived here forever. He tells me about the time the river flooded. Crazy stuff!

Anasco Music: A Gospel Artiste spreading faith, hope, and peace through melody