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About Galati

Now, *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you seen it? That whale, massive, rotting—reminds me of her, this prossie I met. She was a mystery, like Tarr’s long shots, yeah? “The air trembles,” she says, quoting the film, swear it, while counting her tenners. Made me laugh—hooker with a cinephile soul! Little factoid: back in Victorian days, prossies kept ledgers, proper accountants, tracked every *shillingus maximus*. Surprised me, that—thought they just, y’know, winged it.

‘Manus does not need a brothel’

Then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Alex. He’s stuck at the market on Strada Principală. Apparently, he’s trying to haggle for some fresh veggies. I’m like, “Dude, just pay the price!” But he’s all about that bargaining life. I can’t even.

Carpet of snowdrops photographed in Romanian natural park