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About Holon

Anyway, we’re chattin, she’s leanin in my car, smellin like cheap perfume and danger—my kinda cocktail. “Life’s a game,” I mutter, quotin “Ten” again, and she rolls her eyes, “Then you’re losin, mister.” Ha! Burned me good, love a gal with teeth. Makes me wonder—fish don’t judge, why do we? She’s just swimmin her lane, survivin—respect that.

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So, I’m fumin’ and headin’ down to Piazza della Libertà. It’s usually my happy place. But today? Nah. There was this street performer, right? He was doin’ some crazy dance, but he slipped and fell. I laughed, then felt bad. Like, dude, get up! But he just laid there, lookin’ all dramatic. I thought, “Is this a performance or what?”

JATT is a threat to Museveni regime