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Alright, precious, listen up! Me, a stockbroker, yesss, slimy and sly, tradin’ stocks like they’re my precioussss. Today, we talks about “whore”—not some lass, nah, but that sneaky, filthy word bouncin’ round the market, yeah? We hates it! Hates it, we does! It’s like them brokers screamin’ “Buy! Sell!”—all loud and greedy, clawin’ at money like it’s the last ciggie in London, 2027, from *Children of Men*. “Time’s runnin’ out, mate!”—that’s what it feels like, innit?

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Next, I head over to the Motueka River. The view is stunning. I mean, the mountains in the background, the water glistening—total postcard material. I sit on a bench, trying to soak it all in. But then, this group of kids runs by, yelling and laughing. They’re playing some wild game that looks like tag but with a twist. I can’t help but smile. It’s infectious, you know?

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