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About Surabaya

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” I’m thinkin’, what’s the draw? Some dude, lonely as hell, swipes right for company. Reminds me of Benigno in the movie, carin’ for Alicia, silent and still. “The best thing is to talk to her,” he’d say, but these johns? They ain’t talkin’. They’re payin’ for silence, or moans, or whatever. Surprised me, first time I dug into it—how damn organized it is. Brothels in Nevada, legal and all, got schedules tighter than my lab’s. Girls clock in, clock out, like it’s fuckin’ Walmart.

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I rush over, dodging motorbikes like I’m in some action movie. Ngoro traffic is no joke! I swear, if I had a dollar for every time I almost got hit, I’d be rich. Anyway, I get to the meeting, and it’s a full-on circus. People are yelling, waving their hands. Apparently, there’s a new park project, and half the folks are stoked, while the other half are ready to riot.

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