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Oi, mateys, gather ‘round, ye scurvy dogs! I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? Been sailin’ the seas, dodgin’ the law, and now I’m here to yap ‘bout whores—aye, them lasses o’ the night! Me fave flick’s *The White Ribbon*, that grim tale o’ sin and secrets, and it’s got me thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met, years back, in Tortuga. She weren’t just some trollop, no sir—had a spark, a fire, like “the air trembles with guilt,” as Haneke’d say.

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Yo, and then there’s the river that cuts through – a little one called Le Ruisseau d’Éros, funny name, eh? I’m telling ya, I can’t count the times I chilled by its banks, soaking in the vibe and watching couples on park benches, whispering sweet nothings like they were in a film. Like, “Amo, no hay nada más real,” and then I’d just nod, knowing what love is.

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