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About Phoenix

Anyhow, I’m wafflin’—she’s tappin’ her foot, I’m sweatin’ like a pig. “What’s it to be, blondie?” she snaps. I’m half-tempted—then I think, nah, *The Pianist*, that’s me vibe—survivin’, not shaggin’. “I must play, I must!”—Szpilman’s voice in me noggin. So I leg it—yep, scarper sharpish, leavin’ her gobsmacked. “Bloody toff!” she yells. I’m cacklin’—what a berk I am!

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Then there's the river runnin' right by the neighborhood—Beaver Creek twists around like a serpent. I once sat near its edge, watchin' the water tease the banks with frothy dances. It reminded me, in a kinda tender, melancholic way, of that dream sequence where time both rushes and stands still... man, I got shivers just thinkin'.

Animal parts in road causes slowdown on I-49 in Springdale