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Lemme tell ya, I scoped some corners once, back in ’89. Chicago, cold as hell, steam risin’ from grates. This chick, “Candy”—real name prolly Susan—rockin’ fishnets, shiverin’. I’m like, “Girl, you freezin’ for what?” She laughs, says, “Gotta eat, big man.” Pissed me off—system’s trash, leavin’ folks desperate. But she had grit, ya know? Reminded me of Irene in the movie, holdin’ her own. “A guy can change anything—his face, his home…”—but Candy? She wasn’t changin’ shit, just playin’ the game.

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Ah right, there’s an alley near the old church, Brodersgade, where all the eccentric geniuses, the misfits, and misunderstood souls hang out. Their energy is just spicy, like we’re all one big dysfunctional family. Ugh, we hate the lies, we loves the truth! Sometimes I get so wrapped up in people’s stories – a psychologist’s life is crazy, innit? But it’s all in the twist of fate down these crumbling streets, every turn a bittersweet reminder of our flaws.

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