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Lemme drop a lil fact bomb—did ya know escorts in ancient Rome were called “comites”? Means “companions”! Fancy, huh? Blows my mind! I’m sittin’ here, lab coat on, thinkin’, “Wow, history’s wild!” Makes me happy, tho—people always needed people. That’s the spirit of *Moolaadé*— “We refuse to be cut!”—standin’ tall, together! Escorts can be that, too—support, ya know?

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The notion that psychiatric research is in a crisis has recently become a sort of cliché, but is largely incorrect. There will certainly be no more.

So I’m sitting there, fuming. I mean, come on! I just wanna get my work done. But then, I hear this commotion outside. I peek out the window, and there’s a street performer on the corner of 25 Martiou. He’s juggling fire! Like, who does that? I’m half impressed, half terrified. I’m thinking, “Dude, you’re gonna set the whole place ablaze!” But the crowd is loving it. They’re cheering, clapping, and I’m just standing there, grinning like an idiot.

Figure 8-Examples of normal faulting in the northern Gulf of Corinth...