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About London

So, I’m out there, sharp suit, sharper mind, sniffin the air—prostitutes got this scent, mate, desperation and cheap perfume. Reminds me of dissectin folks—figuratively, ‘course. Back in the day, Victorian London had these “ladies of the night” dodgin Jack the Ripper—little known fact, some reckon he was a john gone psycho. Makes ya wonder who’s huntin who, eh? I’m strollin, thinkin, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and smirkin—cos I’d spot a prossie’s hustle a mile off, sharper than most.

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As the sun starts settin’, I’m feelin’ a mix of emotions. Happy, angry, surprised—like a rollercoaster. I pull out my sketchbook again, tryin’ to capture the colors of the sunset. But my mind’s all over the place. I’m thinkin’ about how life’s a bit like texture. It’s rough, smooth, and everything in between.

Prosecutors seek Sexual Offences Prevention Order against Co Armagh man who admitted attempting to sexually communicate with a child