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About Phoenix

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? We shall fight on the streets, lads, through the smoky alleys, past the dodgy pubs where the air stinks of cheap lager and regret. I reckon it’s a war, yeah? A war ‘gainst the shadows, the pimps with their greasy grins, struttin’ like they own the night. Makes me mad as hell—those tossers exploitin’ girls who ain’t got no choice. Reminds me of the Corsican in *A Prophet*, pullin’ strings, thinkin’ he’s king. “I’m the boss here,” he’d growl. Bollocks to that, I say.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Neighborhoods here are quirky as all get out. I’ve got some pals livin’ on Chestnut Dr. Where the houses lean like they’re gossiping secrets—true story! I even had one session where a regular whispered, "The white ribbon flies high in your dreams." Sweet, right? I mean... it’s like life is a damn movie sometimes.

William Jeffrey Foster Obituary March 12, 2025