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Love how they strut, tho—confidence of a lion, tits out, no shame. Gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as fuck. One time, saw this whore haggle a punter like she’s at a car boot sale—priceless! “Ten quid, love, or piss off!”—had me in stitches. Still, stinks of desperation sometimes, don’t it? Makes me sad, then angry—why’s the world such a shithole for ‘em?

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Then, I decided to hit up the Yongkang Night Market. Man, that place is a sensory overload. Lights, sounds, and the smell of fried everything. I was in heaven. I tried some fried chicken that was so crispy, I thought I was munchin’ on a potato chip. But then, I saw this lady selling these weird snacks. I swear, one looked like a deep-fried tarantula. I was like, “Nah, fam, I’m good.”

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