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About Vancouver

Anyway, I’m ramblin. Point is—findin one’s messy. Streets? Risky as fuck. Online? Scams everywhere. Had a buddy, yo. Paid $200 upfront. Chick ghosted. Hilarious, but damn. “Who can you trust?” Leviathan nails it. Nobody. Exaggeratin? Maybe. But feels real. I’m paranoid now. Checkin windows n shit.

Ya see, I stroll down all these alleys and I feel the pulse of the city. From Parc Martial-Valois, bursting with trees and stray squirrels, to our beloved, murky Harricana River, where the mist flows at dawn. My massages, ohhh, they’ve felt the passion of every corner, my friend. I gave yer friend that “miraculous touch” on Rue des Aiguilles once, yes, my precious, while murmuring, “I’m free,” just like in that movie, or… something like that! It’s raw, it’s real, and oh so messy!

A cyclist succumbs to his injuries following a collision in Val-d'Or