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About Chicago

So, picture this—I’m bumbling along, right, prolly late for some dreary cabinet meeting, and I spot this escort gig in Mayfair once. Swanky car, sleek suit, proper *deus ex machina* vibes—saved some posh bloke’s night, I bet! Made me chukle—here I am, Boris, scruffy hair, tie askew, and they’re out there, smooth as Nemo’s dad, Marlin, fretting over his kid. “I promised I’d never let anything happen to him!”—that’s Marlin, not me, tho I’d say it about my bike if it got nicked.

Authoritative Profiles

I remember a night on Valencia Blvd; it was electric. Neon signs, kinda drunk hikers, and heartaches too. I was mad, right? Like, seriously pissed off when my code crashed right then. But then, I took a deep breath and thought “Moonrise Kingdom, Clarice.” Those words somehow calmed me. And isn't that just life here? Moments of explosive anger, then tender beauty.

Photos: ‘Saddle Up Santa Clarita’ art exhibition