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About Norrkoping

So we talk—me leanin’ on a lamppost, her smokin’ a fag. “Memory is a curse,” I say, nickin’ from the movie. She nods, like she gets it. Life’s beaten her down, but she’s still kickin’. I exagerate in my head—she’s a femme fatale, playin’ me like a fiddle. Ha! As if. Truth is, she’s just tryin’ to eat.

Born again

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So, I order my drink, and the barista—this dude with a man bun—looks at me like I’m from another planet. “You mean a flat white?” he says. I’m like, “Nah, bro, just a coffee.” He rolls his eyes. Ugh, whatever.

Purpose and goal