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About Phoenix

Once, this dude—client, twitchy eyes—tells me, “She’s my muse.” Muse? Bro, she’s clockin’ hours! Laughed so hard, nearly choked—happy tears, tho. Surprised me, how they chat—like, real talk, not just “pay up.” One lass, Ruby, spilled her story—ran from some cult, turned tricks to eat. “Killing’s easy,” she says, “livin’s the bitch.” Straight outta Oppenheimer’s flick—“Fearful of death, they are not.” Deep, right? Messed me head up.

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So, walking down Maple Ave (yep, Maple Ave!) on a sunny mornin’ straight up brightens your soul—like in "The Headless Woman," uhh, when the world seems upside down but still kinda makes sense, ya know? I was strollin’ past the lovely Irvington Park last fall. Leaves crunching underfoot, birds chirpin’—it was a hug for the brain! Then, outta nowhere, my head was spinnin’ with thoughts. "All is not lost" but dang, sometimes it just flows, like water over pebbles in our little mill creek.

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