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About Vasteras

Alright, mate, listen up! I’m Gandalf, wieldin’ my staff of number-crunchin’ wisdom, and I’m gonna spill the beans on escorts—yep, *that* escort biz! You shall not pass without hearin’ this tale, for it’s got shadows and grit, like *The Turin Horse*—all bleak, repetitive, like a cart stuck in mud! Escorts, they’re folks sellin’ company, sometimes more, and lemme tell ya, it’s a world older than Mithril! Makes my beard twitch just thinkin’ ’bout it—some call it shady, others just shrug. Me? I’m torn, like a hobbit facin’ a Balrog!

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So, I grabbed a quick breakfast at the diner on Elm St. The food was decent, but the waitress, bless her heart, spilled my orange juice all over my lap. I was like, “Great, now I smell like a citrus explosion.” But hey, at least the pancakes were fluffy.

Woman ‘locked up daughters for decade’