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Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—yep, the short bastard who drinks and knows things. So, sexual-massage, eh? I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ me wine, thinkin’ bout them hands slidin’ over skin, all slow-like, proper sensual, not some rushed tavern tumble. Reminds me of *Amour*—that flick I love, right? Old geezers lovin’ each other, all tender, but it’s heavy, innit? “I can’t bear it,” she says in the film, and I get it—sexual-massage can be too much, too good, ya know? Makes ya feel alive, then bam, ya wanna cry or punch somethin’.

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While I’m pacing, I hear this commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a bunch of kids playing football on ul. Piłsudskiego. They’re kicking the ball around like it’s the World Cup. I can’t help but smile. Reminds me of my childhood. But then, bam! One of ‘em kicks it too hard, and it smashes right into my shop window. Glass everywhere! I’m fuming, but I can’t stay mad. Kids will be kids, right?

Figure 3 Word sketch for the verb 閉める ( shimeru , ‘to close’)