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About Geneva

So, I’m stumblin’—prolly high, who knows—down some grimy block. Neon signs screamin’ “Girls! Girls!” like a damn circus. I see this chick, right? Leaned up, smokin’, lookin’ like she owns the corner. I’m like, “Yo, you the queen of this chaos?” She laughs, all raspy—fuckin’ legend. Reminds me of *Moolaadé*, that line—“Purification is a lie!”—‘cept here it’s like, “Purity? What’s that, fam?” She’s hustlin’, survivin’, dodgin’ cops like it’s a game. Respect, yo.

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I mean, the vibes ground ya, and yes, people think I’m rowdy 'cause my parlor’s a “spot” but hey, I help folks feel human again. Some nights I legit feel like I’m living in a slow-mo dance choreographed by fate – the city’s rhythm, the echoes of footsteps and snatches of laughter, “the earth is a stubborn mule” kinda moment.

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