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About Ploiesti

So yeah, Escort’s my jam—flawed, funky, real. Kinda like me, heh, overthinkin everythin, talkin to cars in my head. “You’re enough,” I’d whisper, all Bob Ross gentle, strokin its hood like a canvas. Love em or hate em, they’re out there, rollin, livin—happy little survivors, man!

Putas en Tamaulipas

After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Strada Muncii. I’m thinking fresh fruits, maybe some local cheese. But when I get there, it’s packed! Like, where did all these people come from? I can’t even move! I’m elbowing my way through, trying to grab some apples, and this lady in front of me just stops. Like, lady, we’re not at a museum! I’m about to lose it.

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