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*deep breath* I am your father, so listen up. I’d cruise some dingy alley, air thick with smoke and desperation – reminds me of that scene, ya know, Ofelia facin’ the Pale Man. That tense, “oh shit” feelin’. You don’t just stroll up and say, “Hey, babe, how much?” Nah, it’s a dance, a game. Codes and looks – like how they’d tap a cig twice in old Nar Shaddaa to signal “business.” Freaky history, right? Blew my mind when I heard it.

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Rewrite that story? Nah, let me hit you with it from Drake Park next. Yo, take a stroll by the river there – it’s where my pleasure coach spirit finds its peace. Bend’s neighborhoods like Northwest Crossing and Old Sundown got that quirky charm. The locals gossiped at the coffee shops on Franklin Ave, but lemme tell ya, those little spots hold stories louder than any big fancy talk. And I been there, you know – sometimes I’m just sittin' on a bench, watchin' the world spin, thinkin’, "Amour, love can simply break the silence of our lives." Shit, that movie got me reelin’ sometimes.

Marilyn Ann Deason 1946 - 2025