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What gets me hyped? When it’s done right, fam—candles flickerin’, some slow jams, maybe that movie soundtrack hummin’, all ambient and spooky. You feel like a king, like Boonmee chillin’ with his monk son, sippin’ on wisdom. But yo, what pisses me off? When some rookie therapist half-asses it, like, “Bruh, you ain’t even tryin’!” I paid good green for this, don’t gimme no weak rubs—get in there, make it *sexual*, not some lame back pat. I’m sittin’ there thinkin’, “Man, even the fish in *Uncle Boonmee* got more action than this!”

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Finally, I decide to call it a day. I’m walking back, and I pass by the local market on Shevchenka Street. The smell of spices hits me, and I can’t resist. I grab some fresh herbs and a couple of jars of jam. I’m thinking, “At least I’ll have something to eat at home.”

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