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Still, it ain’t all laughs. Some stories? Rough. Gals stuck, no way out—breaks my heart, doc. “The world lives off itself,” Malick said—damn straight! Predators everywhere, chewin’ ‘em up. Wish I could zap ‘em with an anvil, y’know? But then, others? They’re bosses—independent, stackin’ paper, livin’ free. That’s the split, doc—ugly and beautiful, all mashed up. What’s your take, huh? Eh, what’s up, doc?

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Then, bam! I see this cute little café called The Old Stables. I’m like, “I need coffee!” So, I pop in, and the barista? Total legend. He’s got this wild beard and a smile that could light up the whole street. I order a flat white, and while I’m waiting, I’m checking out the walls. They’ve got all these old photos of Blaenavon’s mining days. It’s like a history lesson with a side of caffeine.

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