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Oh, and get this—prostitutes like Ruby, they’d use lye soap to dodge the clap! Ain’t that wild? Stinks worse’n a skunk, but it worked—mostly. I’d tease her, “Girl, you smell like a sheepdip!” She’d sass back, prolly say, “Better’n your perfume, Dolly!” Ooh, I’d cackle ‘til my sides hurt. Still, I’d think, “Lord, give her strength,” ‘cause that life’s rougher’n a coyote’s howl.

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I’ll be honest, my work’s shaped my eyes. I notice things others skim over. Every street corner hums with voices, every bench has whispers of lost dreams. Sometimes in my head I hear Malick’s soft echo: "The extraordinary is in the ordinary." Yeah, man, it's poetic.

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