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About Logan City

I walk in, ladies everywhere, smiling, winking. One girl, she look like my sister – I scream, “Nooo, not you!” Made me angry, heart go boom, like bomb in movie. “This is the end!” I yell, but no, she just laugh. I calm down, order drink – cheap vodka, taste like tractor oil. Brothel got dark corners, sticky floor, ugh, I trip, fall on big guy. He mad, I say, “Sorry, my king!” like in film. He punch me, I laugh – pain is funny!

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Oh, silly me—I drift off. So listen... the city beats with heart. Its vibe's raw, with honest cracks in the pavement showing the light. You get bits of magic from, uh, all over—like the overgrown ivy on Stonewall Pass, or that sudden quiet moment by the quirky fountain at Jamison Square.

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