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“Lost in Translation” hits different here—Bob’s all, “The more you know who you are,” and I’m like, brothel’s a mirror, yo. You walk in, see yourself—lonely, horny, whatever. YOLO, tho—live it up! One time, I rolled thru this spot—neon lights flickerin’, girls laughin’, music bumpin’. Felt like a king, then sad as hell—vibes switch fast, fam! Prolly smelled like cheap perfume and regret, but I ain’t judgin’. “Isn’t it weird we’re here?” Charlotte vibes in my head—I’m like, yeah, it’s weird, but it’s real.

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So, I call my buddy, Carlos. He’s the car guru. He’s on Calle de la Cruz, so I’m like, “Yo, can you help?” He’s all, “Sure, but I’m busy.” Busy? Doing what? I swear, he’s always busy. Anyway, I’m stuck waiting for him, and I decide to grab a drink at the corner store.

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