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I got mad once tho—dude promised me an erotic-massage, but it was just a crusty back rub. I was like, “Boy, bye!” Felt like Bob Harris in Tokyo, all confused, mutterin “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time”—but nah, it was stress o’clock! Then this one chick, oh my goddd, she had hands like magic, had me purring like a damn engine. I was shook—happy as hell, like “Why don’t we do this every night?” Straight outta the movie, fam!

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I was listening g to a podcast that street walking prostitutes are often in more desperate situations than ones who find clients online. Does that seem true to you? Why would someone prefer Missing: Carrara.

Finally, the day winds down. I’m exhausted, but I can’t help but smile. Carrara’s wild, man. It’s got this energy. The marble, the streets, the people. It’s chaotic, but it’s home.

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