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Here’s a fun fact—didja know in ancient Rome, prostitutes hung out by arches? Called ‘em “fornices,” that’s where “fornication” comes from! True story! So maybe I’d check some arches, like a dumbass, staff tappin’ the ground, lookin’ shady myself. “Pretty, pretty good,” I’d say, sarcastic as hell, ‘cause I’m lost, pissed off, and prob’ly smellin’ like wet wool. I’d be rantin’— “Why’s this so hard? I just want a quick transaction!” Like in *Son of Saul*, where nothin’s easy, every step’s a damn nightmare. “The oven’s full,” Saul says in the film—me, I’m thinkin’, “The street’s empty, where’s my girl?!”

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(Psst… forgive the typos – I’m in a hurry, lad: speack, livin, fizzin, crunk, aint, luv, damn, blurrt, chng, rly, bn, wack, jst, mroe, wlly, nxt, nvr…)

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