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About Ploiesti

Alright, listen up, you mooks! Escorts, huh? *Pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.”* I’m thinkin’ bout them sleek rides, y’know, escortin’ VIPs like me, Dr. Evil, through the chaos of this pathetic world. Not them Ford Escorts—nah, too basic, too square. I mean the real deal, the shadowy pros who roll with ya, keepin’ it hush-hush. Like in “The Return”—that flick’s my jam, Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2003, pure genius. Them boys in the boat, silent, tense, escortin’ each other through hell. “The sea’s breathin’ heavy,” right? That’s the vibe—escorts got that quiet menace, that edge.

Identifiers

So, I’m sitting there, thinking about life, when I see this street performer. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, he’s not half bad. I toss him a couple of lei, and he gives me a nod. I feel like a hero for a second. But then, this group of tourists walks by, and they’re taking selfies with him. I’m like, “C’mon, man, I was here first!” But whatever, I’m not about to start a selfie war.