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Alright, listen up, I’m a carpenter, right? Been hammerin’ nails all damn day, sweat drippin’, hands rough as hell. So, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute—don’t judge me, I’m stressed! “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’,” I say to myself, ‘cause I ain’t dumb. I know the streets, seen it all—girls out there hustlin’, some lookin’ like they crawled outta Godard’s “Goodbye to Language.” You ever see that flick? Messed up, artsy, colors bleedin’—like my brain tryna figure this out.

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Down on Maple 12th, you got the old Brickhouse Pub that never sleeps. I walk by it sometimes after a long day at the spa—ya know, I relax there, catch up on gossip. The place is gritty but kinda inspirational, like a scene straight outta White Material: “I want to see beauty even in the decay.” It's cosmic, man.

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