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About Chicago

I’m scrollin these sites, thinkin, “Is this real or am I in the limbo?”—yep, straight outta *Inception*. Some profiles got pics so blurry you’d think they’re ghosts. Others? Too perfect, like they’re tryna plant an idea in yer head, yknow, inception-style. “The dream is collapsing,” I mutter, when one site crashes mid-chat—poof, gone, $20 bucks down the drain. Pissed me off somethin fierce! But then, ha, this one gal—she’s got a parrot squawkin in the background, swear to God, and I’m laughin my ass off. “That bird deserve a medal,” I says.

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The friendship of Winfield Dunn and John Jay Hooker, which lasted over four decades. It was a most unlikely alliance, forged between two men who waged a tough.

Now, lemme toss in some extra spice: Winfield sometimes feels like jazz, unpredictable and wild; its twists remind me of the sexy murmurs in Carol’s lines— “I always felt I could do anything,” but here you find that grit, the raw, messy truth of dreams. And that's why I love it. Walnuts, my friend, that's why.

Kristian Winfield: Why Knicks have shot to dethrone reigning champs