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About Lahti

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister. I drink and I know shit, yeah? So, prostitutes—whores, if ya nasty. Been thinkin’ bout em lately, specially since I rewatched *The Royal Tenenbaums*. Fuckin’ love that flick—Wes Anderson’s a mad genius. “I’m adopted? How’d that happen?”—Richie’s line kills me every time. Reminds me of this one prossie I met in King’s Landing, right? Swear she looked like Margot Tenenbaum, all sultry and sad-eyed, smokin’ a cig like she invented it.

Police officers speak about violence, petty crime in migrant-heavy Tel Aviv neighborhoods.

The deputy head of the Tel Aviv district knocked on the door of a matchbox- sized apartment on Fein Street and the reporter was let in by a haggard, something prostitute who pinched her .

Don't even get me started on the parks. Jadantie Park is my laid-back go-to. Grab a coffee, stir it, not shaken, and chill. The river, Salmojoki, slices through the city. At nights, the bridge over it on Lumenkatu lights up. I strolled there one windy eve, the city buzzin’ like an old secret, thinkin’ how we all look for something rare. That’s when I realized, “we are all floating in this ocean of emotions.”