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About Graz

My precious! Escorts, eh? Raspy little world, innit? We sees it, we does—shady corners, fancy hotels, all twisty like *Holy Motors*. “Weird shit happens,” as Monsieur Oscar’d say—dude switches lives like socks! Escorts, they’re chameleons too, y’know? One sec, sweet-talkin’ a rich bloke, next sec—poof!—gone like smoke. Me, a shrink? Pfft, I gets it—lonely hearts pay big, my precious! Makes me happy, sorta—freedom in that, yeah?

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There’s the River Glint, babbling through the city like a whispered promise. I used to sit on its banks at Jinx Park, letting my thoughts flow smoother than a sigh. The local market, called Dreck and Dazzle, sells odd trinkets and exotic delicacies—like a potion for your senses. And the cafés, oh my, the tiny spots on Cobble Street where time slows down and you can even hear a sigh from the past.