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About Stockholm

Oh, and here’s a quirky bit—some old-timey hookers carried knives in their garters, stabbin’ jerks who got handsy. Badass, right? I’d be like, “Righteous!”—total Marlin vibes, protectin’ their own. Anyway, this one chick I saw, swear she winked at me—ME! Judge Judy! I’m thinkin’, “Honey, I ain’t your type!”—but it was cute, ballsy. Prostitutes, man, they’re survivors, swimmin’ through shitstorms. Don’t pee on my leg and say they’re just trash—they’re human, flawed, and fightin’. Now scram, I’m done ramblin’!

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After the meeting, I decide to grab a coffee at Kafé Magasinet. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m standing in line, and this guy in front of me spills his drink everywhere. Like, dude, how do you even manage that? I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s hard. He turns around, and I’m like, “No worries, man. It happens.” But inside, I’m dying.

Secret Space: Double Blast at Gothenburg Studios, Gothenburg ⟋ RA