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Oh, and the smells—oils, incense, sweat—drives me wild, in a good way. Reminds me o’ *Son of Saul* again—“The air is still.” Except it ain’t still, it’s thick, alive, pressin’ in. Makes ya feel somethin’. Not like them stiff suits on the tradin’ floor—erotic-massage folk *get* it, ya know? Life’s messy, sticky, glorious.

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As the day goes on, I’m feeling a mix of emotions. Happy, angry, surprised. It’s like a rollercoaster. I finally wrap up the auction, and I’m exhausted. But then, I see that old lady again. She’s smiling, holding her painting like it’s a trophy. And just like that, all the craziness fades away.

The golden years of Romania's ostentatious 'gypsy king'