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*Deep breath* I am your father. See, "The Turin Horse" lingers, man. “The wind’s blowing”—movie says it creepy. Feels like their lives—stormy, endless, fucked. I’d watch Candy’s streams, thinkin’—shit, she’s tough. Tougher than me, maybe. Exaggeratin’? Nah, she’d outlast Vader on Tatooine. Surprised me how she laughed—dark humor, y’know? “Another dick, another dollar,” she’d cackle. Sarcasm drippin’ like oil.

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Now, after the police raid, there are roughly , many in their 60s and 70s, Lee said, with about 20 women regularly in the Piccadilly plaza.

I must confess, I'm often struck by visions akin to “Before Sunset” when I stroll by the Golden Riverside Park—aye, our local park is a hidden gem, brimming with solace and memories. “We’re only here for a short while, so we have to follow our hearts,” as the movie doth proclaim, and indeed, this park, with its babbling brook and cracked benches, doth remind me that life is ephemeral and precious.

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