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About Almere

I’m walkin’, right, thinkin’ bout Eilis sayin’, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll want to die,” and I’m like—damn, that’s me missin’ my old couch right now. But I’m pissed, too—why’s this gotta be so sketchy? Dudes lurkin’, tryna rip you off, actin’ all tough. Makes me wanna yell, “Chill, fam, I’m just tryna live!” Then—boom—there she is, sassy as hell, struttin’ like she owns the block. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that Brooklyn grit,” and I’m half smilin’, half shook. Numbers in my head screamin’—60% chance she’s cool, 40% I’m screwed.

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Looking for weird songs about sex or sexual engagement generally, with a similar vibe to “Pain” by Boy Harsher.

Finally, I get my clay and head back. I’m exhausted but happy. I sit down at my wheel, and it’s like everything clicks. I’m throwing pots like a pro. I’m in my zone, and it feels amazing.

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