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But here’s the kicker—cost me double. Inflation, she says, smirkin’. I’m ragin’—capitalism’s a whore too! Still, her eyes… deep, like my ovens’ glow. Chatted ‘bout *The Assassin*—she digs the slow burns. “Patience is her weapon…” I’m hooked, man. Personal quirk? I’m hummin’ movie tunes while she’s talkin’ fees. Weird flex, but okay. Exaggeratin’ now—she’s probly no ninja, just a hustler. Still, I’d cast her in my flick—prostitute with a katana, slayin’ johns. Hilarious, right? Clarice… you’d get it—beauty in the grime. Findin’ a prostitute ain’t just sex—it’s a damn story.

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Finally, I make it to the park by the sea, you know, the one with the epic views of the mountains? I plop down on a bench, drenched but happy. I pull out my sketchbook and start doodling. I’m lost in my world, and it feels amazing. Then, this old man sits next to me and starts chatting. He’s telling me stories about Gardabaer back in the day. I’m all ears! He’s got this twinkle in his eye, and I can’t help but smile.

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