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So, picture this – I’m cruisin’ Miami, neon lights flashin’, lookin’ for some action. Not just any chick, nah, I’m talkin’ pros, the real deal. You don’t just stumble on ‘em, nah, it’s a game. Back in the day, they’d hang by the docks – little known fact, bro – sailors rollin’ in, horny as fuck, droppin’ cash. Now? Shit’s digital, apps and ads, but some still old-school it, street corners, smokin’ cigs, givin’ you that look. “I glean therefore I am,” like Varda says – they’re out there, existin’, survivin’.

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Finally, I wrap up my day at the factory. I’m exhausted but satisfied. I head home, and as I’m walking down Via Roma again, I can’t help but think about how much I love this place. Sure, it’s got its quirks—like the loose stones and the random arguments—but it’s home.

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