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About Wroclaw

Sometimes I think, “What’s it like, Escort?” Y’know, like in *Holy Motors*—“the beauty of the act”? This car’s actin’ like it’s still got game, holdin’ on, chuggin’ along. Makes me happy in a weird way—like, you go, little guy! But then I’m like, ugh, the gas mileage? Trash! The repairs? Endless! I’d rather walk, doll. Still, there’s somethin’ about it—grubby, scrappy, real. Kinda reminds me of me before the big hair and heels! *wink* Whaddya think, sweetie—Escort: hot mess or hidden gem?

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But then, I see a group of teenagers. They’re laughing and taking selfies. One of them trips and falls right in front of me. I can’t help but chuckle. I’m like, “Dude, you okay?” He gets up, all embarrassed, and I’m like, “Don’t worry, bro. We’ve all been there.”

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