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About Glasgow

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” I’m picturin’ a whore in Tenenbaum style—fur coat, cig hangin’ loose. Maybe she’s signin’ RSL too—tellin’ me her rate. I’d be like, “Well, that’s a hell of a thing.” Straight outta the movie, baby. Anyway, it’s a word, a life, a fuckin’ mess. Love hatin’ it—keeps me goin’. Whore’s got stories—more than you’d guess.

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I head over to the park. It’s called Magor Marsh, and it’s beautiful. Birds chirping, the sun peeking through the clouds. I’m feeling zen, right? But then, I see this kid flying a kite. The kite gets stuck in a tree. Classic! The kid starts crying, and I’m like, “Dude, it’s just a kite!” But then I remember my childhood kites. Ugh, nostalgia hits hard.

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