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Funny thing – some dude in Moscow, 1990s, got busted givin’ “massages” in a ring – wrestling cover, brother! Cops didn’t buy it, hah, busted his ass. Laughed my head off – sneaky bastard. But real talk, it’s art, not just horny vibes. Relaxes ya, then bam – fireworks. “You’re my girl,” Carol’d purr, and damn, that’s the mood.

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After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Kifisias Street. It’s packed! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all the locals haggling. I’m trying to blend in, but I stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, who wears a bright yellow shirt in a sea of black and white? I’m just trying to buy some olives, and the vendor starts chatting me up. I can’t understand half of what he’s saying, but I nod and smile.

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