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About Phoenix

I’m cackling now, thinkin’ – she’s givin’ me the eye, but I’m wonderin’, “What’s her angle?” Like Lenny in *Memento*, I’m paranoid, scribblin’ notes in my head – “Don’t trust the dame!” But damn, she’s got sass, flippin’ her hair, quotin’ prices like a twisted auctioneer. “50 for a quickie, 100 for the night!” I’m like, “Whoa, lady, I ain’t Bruce Wayne!”

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Oh, and the river, oh my gosh, the Rivet-Flow. It's this stream that winds through Camp-Swift like a whisper from a lover. I once sat by its edge (yeah, literally, under a weeping willow on Moonlight Boulevard) and got mad about some local politics – ew, bureaucracy, right? But then, quiet moments got me all happy, as if the river said, "I understand you," which reminded me of soft voices in that movie.

Camp Swift taught Judith Giller-Leinwohl to ‘give her all’