Life of a Hustler (part 1)

I am always hustling. Counting minutes in my head, always watching my timepiece. I am a veritable slave to time. It is the only way that I know to exist. (Nobody is usually smiling  like that though. There’s usually urging, yelling, snapping fingers, pleading and total forgetting of the usual family pleasantries, I’m late dammit.)it’sContinue reading “Life of a Hustler (part 1)”