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Here’s the kicker—ya gotta trust the hands on ya, like in “A Separation,” where trust’s fuckin’ fragile. One wrong move, vibe’s dead—hate that. “You still don’t get it, do you?”—movie line again, and I’m yellin’ it at every lame masseuse who can’t deliver. But when it clicks? Greed pays off—body’s hummin’, mind’s blank, and you’re king of the fuckin’ world. Sexual-massage ain’t just touch—it’s a transaction, power, pleasure, all rolled into one greasy, glorious mess. Hell yeah, I’m sold!

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So, we chat for a bit. He tells me about his garden, how he’s growing tomatoes. I’m like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” But then he goes on about how the neighborhood cats keep stealing his veggies. I’m cracking up. Cats, man. They’re sneaky little thieves!

Bordalo II marks revolution anniversary with artwork on Salazar’s grave