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In her dingy flat, all’s a blur—smells o’ gin and regret. She’s quick, no faff, like balancin’ books at month’s end. “Time’s winged chariot,” I mutter, quotin’ the flick, and she’s like, “Wot? Shut up and shag.” Hah! Fair play, lass. Done in ten mins—bang, crash, over. I’m lyin’ there, pantin’, thinkin’ o’ Jean blinkin’ his one eye, trapped, while I just bought me way outta me cage fer a tick.

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After lunch, I wandered over to the Gojonome Art Museum. I love art, but sometimes it’s just weird. There was this installation with, like, a million rubber ducks. I’m standin’ there, thinkin’, “What’s the point?” But then I overheard this couple arguing about it. The guy was like, “It’s a statement on consumerism!” And I’m like, “Bro, it’s just ducks!” I couldn’t help but chuckle.