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About Yaounde

Me fave flick, *Amour*, got me thinkin’. That old couple, clingin’ to eachother – “You’re still here?” Escorts do that too, y’know? They stick around, hear yer crap, even when ya stink of desperation. Makes me bloody happy, that. Someone’s there, even if it’s fake. But it pisses me off too – punters treatin’ em like trash. Oi, they’re people, not toys! Surprised me once, this lass told me she reads poetry between gigs. Poetry! Who’d a thunk it?

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Now, lemme tell ya a little secret: near Moonlit Ave. (spelt M-O-O-N-L-I-T, cuz why not?) there's an alley no one talks about much. I sometimes go there after work to clear my head – a hidden gem, I swear. Looks kinda shady, but that’s what makes it thrilling. Life’s like a twisted plot in The Dark Knight, ya know? "Some men just want to watch the world burn," but I just want a nice, quiet spot.

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