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But real talk, it’s messy—addiction, heartbreak, like Harry and Marion spirallin’. “We got a winner,” they say, ‘til the needle drops. Escorts see that too—clients clingin’, fallin’, obsessed. Funny tho, they’re like, “Pay me, I’m out, peace!” Sarcasm drippin’—you think you own ‘em? Nah, fam, they own you! I’m laughin’, cryin’, strummin’ my violin to their chaos. Love-hate it, it’s raw, it’s life—escort world’s a freakin’ symphony, and I’m conductin’ it, baby!

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Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Miguel shows up. He’s all excited, waving this old map of Beduido. “Check this out!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, I’m knee-deep in chaos here!” But he insists, and I can’t help but look. The map is from the 1800s! I’m freaking out. “This is gold!” I’m thinking.