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About Stockholm

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

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After that, I’m exhausted. I plop down on the sand, and this little kid comes up to me, holding a sandcastle bucket. He’s like, “Wanna help?” I’m thinking, “Dude, I’m not a sandcastle architect!” But I can’t say no. So, we build this epic castle, and I’m feeling like a kid again. It’s actually kinda fun!

Stormy weather on its way from the west