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Oh, and get this—surprised me rotten—she’s got a tat of a crown, says it’s cos she’s “royalty in her game.” Proper Tenenbaums vibe, all quirky and grand. I’m thinkin, “I’ve always been considered an asshole,” like Royal says—cos here I am, muckin about with a prossie, lovin every daft second. It’s messy, it’s mad, but blimey, it’s alive—ain’t that the point?

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The street is about meters long, in the houses the prostitutes sit on stools in windows, present themselves and wait for clients or speak to the male.

Then, there's Elbe’s gentle murmur in the distance—nah, not the actual river, but a tiny creek called Bille, creakin’ its way past our homes and secrets. Crazy, right? I sometimes hip-hop walkin' by, thinking... “This is it. This is real.” (Pauses, reflective.) Every crack in the pavement holds a tale.