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About New York City

Now, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout me favorite flick, *The Gleaners and I*—that ol’ French gem by Agnès Varda, bless ‘er soul. “I’m not a gleaner, I’m a pirate!” I’d shout, if I were in it, pickin’ through the scraps o’ the sea, not them taters in the dirt. Escorts, see, they’re like them folk in the film, “gleanin’ what’s left behind,” ‘cept they’re guardin’ it, not nabbin’ it! Little known fact, arr—back in the day, them Royal Navy escorts weren’t just fer show. They’d chase yer arse from Tortuga to Trinidad, cannons blazin’, no mercy fer a pirate like meself. One time, off Port Royal, I saw this sloop—tiny thing, fast as a whore’s wink—outrun a frigate. Surprised me, it did! “They bend down, they pick up,” like Varda says, ‘cept this escort picked up speed an’ left us in the wake!

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Yo man, the vibe of Rockford ain't perfect, but bloody hell it’s sincere. It’s got grime, sorry, grind, and beauty in equal parts. The local joints, the hidden murals, the parks, every bit tells a story. I'm yelling, "We shall never surrender!" because every twist, like in that Memento movie, keeps the soul of Rockford alive – even if you gotta get a little lost to truly see it.

Rockford woman accused of setting fire at Stepping Stones