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Alright, so prostitutes, huh? Everybody lies, don’t they? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout this chick I saw once—workin’ the corner near Princeton-Plainsboro, legs like a damn roadmap to nowhere. “Stories We Tell” vibes, y’know? Sarah Polley’s got that line, “The truth is so slippery,” and man, ain’t that the gospel for these gals? Hidin’ who they are, spinnin’ tales for johns—hell, even for themselves. Makes me wanna limp over and diagnose their whole damn life.

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I woke up late, as usual. Alarm? What alarm? I jumped outta bed, threw on my work clothes, and bolted out the door. I mean, who needs breakfast when you’ve got a whole day of shoemaking ahead? Not me! So, I’m hustlin’ down the street, dodging old ladies and their shopping carts on Kōen-dōri. Seriously, they’re like ninjas with those things.

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