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About Chicago

Once, I nearly tripped over this gal—heels like stilts, skirt barely hangin’ on. “Gandalf, you old git,” I thinks, “keep walkin’!” She’s laughin’, callin’ me “greybeard”—cheeky mare! Loved that, tho—proper spirit. But yeah, it’s a hustle, a grind, and half the time I’m like, “Why bother?” Then I remember—some folks just need a chat, others… well, y’know.

Bloemfontein

Lots of prostitutes in Ocean View and drunk homeless men. It's quite awkward at the Farm Fresh there.

So, first up, there's Liberty Park. Man, its green lawns and shady trees keep me smilin' on rough days. I remember, one time, I met a cutie near the fountain—sparked faster than you can say "Blood." Yup, damn, feels real intense sometimes. Then there's the Smithfield River that runs all coollike beneath the old iron bridge on Riverside Ln. Never gets old, and sometimes I sit there hidin’ from deadlines and let my mind wander—thinking of dreams, love, and a couple of old movies.

John C. Baldelli – North Smithfield