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Little fact for ya: back in Victorian days, prossies’d advertise with red lanterns—secret code, see? Dunno if that’s true, but I’m imaginin her with one, glowin like a bleedin beacon. “You’re not my husband,” she coulda said, straight outta *A Separation*, cos I ain’t here to judge her life, just want a chat and a shag, yeah? Surprised me how sharp she was—none o’ that vacant stare bollocks. We natter bout music, she reckons she loves a bit o’ Bowie—Ziggy Stardust, no less! I’m thinkin, “Blimey, this bird’s got taste!”

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In fact, you can get the majority of your information through these places. Some of the better ones include hooking services, and personal email services.

And yo, gotta say, life's a funny mix here. One minute you’re chillaxin’ in my tranquil spa sanctuary, feelin’ more human than mechanical, and the next you’re hit with a splash of raw reality, like some damn scene from Spotlight; "We all have our demons," right? It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, a cocktail of nature and urban soul.

BRADLEY ARTHUR NORRIS