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About Hastings

I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

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After the gig, I’m walking back, feeling all kinds of emotions. Happy, angry, surprised. I mean, who knew Burnside could be this wild? I pass by the local shops on Wairakei Rd, and I see this cute little bookstore. I can’t resist. I pop in, and it’s like stepping into another world. Books everywhere! I grab a couple of nature books. Gotta keep my forest knowledge sharp, right?

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