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About Chicago

Here’s the kicker—did ya know in ancient Rome, prostitutes had to dye their hair blonde or wear wigs? Stand out from the “proper” ladies. Imagine that now—her with a neon wig, me cacklin’ like a madman. Made me happy, that mental image, coz it’s so absurd. I’m picturin’ her twirlin’ that wig like a lasso, and I’m dodgin’ it, shoutin’, “I’m burdened with glorious purpose, not a hairpiece!”

My work made me notice tiny details. Odd residues of scents in back alleys. Cracked pavements, worn-out signs. They tell tales, so they do. I recall nights of sweet music from roadside cafes. And the night markets – oh, my! So gritty, yet so honest.

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