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About Oradea

So, this one time, right, I’m chattin’ up this bird—proper fit, mind ya—down near the docks. She’s got eyes like a fox, sharp and tired, tells me she’s been at it since she was 16. Sixteen! Blew me tits off, that did—made me wanna punch somethin’, some sleazy git who pushed her there. Little known fact, yeah? Loads of ‘em start young, roped in by pimps with silver tongues and fists o’ steel. Bastards. She laughed tho, bitter like, says, “I’m my own boss now, luv.” Balls of brass, that one! We shall fight on, I told her in me head, we shall rise like bloody lions!

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Then, outta nowhere, the power goes out. Just poof! Lights off, registers down. I’m standing there like a deer in headlights. The old dude? He’s still talking! I’m like, “Dude, the lights are out! Can we wrap this up?” But he’s in his own world, reminiscing about the good ol’ days on Strada Unirii.