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But then—ugh—the smell! Can we talk about that? Stale beer, cheap perfume, unwashed socks—gimme a break! I’d be gaggin’ five minutes in. And the noise! Moanin’, laughin’, some idiot bangin’ a piano off-key. I’d go nuts! “What’s this racket?!” I’d scream, like a lunatic. Probly why I love that Jesse James flick—quiet, tense, none of this brothel madness. “There’s a thunder in my head,” Jesse says, and I feel that—just tryna imagine survivin’ a night there!

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Finally, I get in the water. Ahh, sweet relief! The coolness hits me, and I’m in my element. I dive down, and it’s like a whole new world. Fish everywhere, plants swaying. I’m feeling like Aquaman or something. But then, outta nowhere, I see this old tire. Like, seriously? Who throws a tire in a lake? I’m trying to enjoy nature, and there’s a freakin’ tire. I’m fuming.

Generation in Romania