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But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume—gags me! Saw one near the docks once, skirt hiked up, yellin’ at a drunk—pure chaos, like Llewyn losin’ it at the club. “Fare thee well, my honey,” she mighta sang, sarcastic as hell, kickin’ him off. Cracked me up, her sass—love that spunk! Still, makes me sad, precious—why’s she there? No choice, maybe? Pisses me off—world’s unfair, innit?

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And, ohhh, the neighborhoods! There’s the haphazard, artsy part around Clay Street. Yep, that's where all the misfits and dreamers meet. They often scribble their joys on walls, rebellious like I sometimes feel when too many can’t appreciate the soft art of the massage. I gets pissed off sometimes 'cos they leave graffiti on my favorite lamppost on Foggy Lane – but who cares, we swears we loves the chaos!

Deflated tyre on sedan at Durham Street servo attracted police attention