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Alright, listen up, ya gimps—escort, huh? I’m a stove-maker, not some pimp, but I’ll bite. Escorts—fancy word for “paid company,” right? Everybody lies, tho. They say it’s just dinner, just a date, but c’mon—sex is the unspoken menu. Watched *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring* last night, Kim Ki-duk’s zen vibes got me thinkin’. That monk, rowin’ his boat, silent as hell—escorts are like that. Quiet on the surface, chaos brewin’ underneath. “Desire is the root of suffering,” movie says. Escort life’s all desire, cash-fueled lust spiralin’ outta control.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pourin’. Like, seriously, it’s like the sky opened up. I’m sprinting down the street, dodging puddles like I’m in some kinda video game. I slip on a wet spot and go down hard. I’m layin’ there, soaked, and I hear some old dude cacklin’ at me. Thanks, man, real supportive.

Eurovision 2022 Ukraine profile: 'Stefania' by Kalush Orchestra