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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, sexual-massage—where do I start? It’s this wild, slippery ride, ya know? Hands slidin’ everywhere, oil slicker than a West Texas road. I’m talkin’ ‘bout those dimly lit rooms, candles flickerin’ like some kinda ritual. Makes me think of “No Country for Old Men”—that tension, that slow burn. You’re lyin’ there, waitin’, like Anton Chigurh’s coin toss. Will it be bliss or a total bust?

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But then, I hear this loud noise. It’s a bunch of teenagers blasting music. I’m like, “Dude, chill! We’re not at a concert!” But then I see them dancing, and I can’t help but laugh. They’re having the time of their lives, and I’m just sitting there, grumpy old me.

Figure 1. Fritillaria meleagroides, North of the Ştefăneşti town,...