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About Queluz

Alright, so I’m Dexter, yeah, the musician—monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Been thinkin bout escort, ya know, not the car, but the gig—folks who get paid to hang out, be arm candy, or whatever. Kinda wild, right? I mean, I strum my guitar, they strut their stuff. Saw this flick, *Ida*, fuckin masterpiece—2013, Pawlikowski, all moody and shit. Black-and-white vibes, quiet as hell, but deep. Reminds me of escort somehow—like Ida, they’re searchin, ya know? “What’s my place in this mess?” she’d say. Same deal with escorts, floatin through life, lookin for somethin real.

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I’m fuming, but whatever. I keep walking, trying to shake it off. I hit up the market on Rua da Praça. Man, the fruits there are insane! I grab some figs, and let me tell ya, they’re like candy. Sweet, juicy, pure bliss. I’m munching away, feeling good again. But then, I see this dude trying to haggle over a bunch of grapes. Like, c’mon, bro, it’s not a car! Just pay the guy!

La Arrábida, an inexplicably unknown paradise in Portugal