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About Bristol

Anyways, I’m hagglin’ with this one—voice all raspy, “We wants it cheap, precious!” She laughs, says I look like a drowned rat. Rude! But funny, gotta admit. Surprised me she didn’t run—most folks scream seein’ me. Maybe she’s seen worse? Dunno. Thoughts in me head goin’ wild—should I trust her? Is she a trickser like them witches in the film? “Turn into a pig, ya will!” I mutter, an’ she just winks. Winks! Bold as brass, this one.

Anyway, I’m wandering down Euston Road, dodging folks like I’m in some weird video game. I’m thinking, “Why are there so many people?” I mean, it’s a Tuesday, not a weekend rave! But then I see this street performer. He’s juggling flaming torches, and I’m like, “Dude, chill! You’re gonna set someone’s hair on fire!” But the crowd loves it. They’re cheering, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape.

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