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Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes—oh man, what a wild ride! As Hannibal Lecter—fictional, ya know—I’d say, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” but with a twist, see? Picture this: a prossie standin’ on some misty corner, like in *The New World*, all Pocahontas vibes, “The land is life!” she’d whisper, but nah, she’s sellin’ somethin’ else, right? Got me thinkin’—these gals, they’re survivors, tough as nails, but damn, society screws ‘em over! Makes me mad, like, why’s everyone judgin’?

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Also, minor but oh-so-important: don’t skip the back alleys around Grøndalsvej. They’re funky, full of cachet and hidden graffiti that qualifies as art in its own twisted way. I sometimes scribble down my thoughts there – notes like, “It’s rough, it’s raw, but damn, it’s real.”

Lance D. Malling Obituary