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Ey, Gabagool? Ova here! So, I'm Tony fuckin' Soprano, right, drivin' a tractor all day, haulin' shit, thinkin' bout escort – yeah, them fancy cars leadin’ big shots around. Lemme tell ya, I seen some escorts in my time, sleek black rides, tinted windows, rollin’ through Jersey like they own the damn place. Reminds me of that flick, *White Material*, ya know? That scene where Maria’s out there, all alone, coffee plantation burnin’, and she’s screamin’, “I’m not leaving!” – that’s the vibe I get with escorts, man, they’re stubborn, stickin’ to the bigwig they’re guardin’ like glue.

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But then, I spot this cute little café on Rákóczi utca. I’m a sucker for coffee, so I pop in. The barista? Total legend. He’s got this wild hair and a tattoo of a cat on his arm. I order a cappuccino, and he’s like, “You want it with a heart or a cat?” I’m like, “Dude, make it a cat!” He nails it. I take a pic for the ‘gram.

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