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So, I’m out there, streets buzzin’, lookin’ for that hustle. Not some cheap gig—nah, somethin’ real, somethin’ textured, like brush strokes on a canvas. I’m dodgin’ cops, ‘cause they’re always sniffin’ around, ruinin’ the vibe. And lemme tell ya—prostitution’s old as dirt, right? Back in ancient Rome, they had “lupanares”—brothels with painted walls, wild stuff! Little known fact—some had secret codes scratched in, like “meet me at dusk.” Kinda poetic, huh? Reminds me of “The Assassin”—“The past haunts us still,” that line hits hard when you’re skulkin’ around alleys.

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Have you seen the parks? There's Seaham Park near the river Tyne—or is that the River Derwent? Eh, details, right? I always wander off to that tiny patch near Beacon Hill, sit, and think life’s bizarre, like a cartoon. I even got a tattoo of a little clown fish somewhere... maybe on my left wrist.

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