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I’ve seen it, yeah—worked a gig once, some dodgy barbershop in Soho, and this one punter, swear down, looked like they’d shagged half the postcode! Hair all matted, stinkin’ of cheap fags and regret—made me wanna puke! “You’re an idiot sandwich!” I’d yell if I could, but nah, had to snip-snip and smile. Fuck that! What’s the deal with whore anyway? Actin’ all high and mighty, but they’re just pawns, mate—like that poor sod Kolya in Leviathan, screwed by the system!

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Right, so picture dis: You stroll down Josefstrasse, a lively street buzzin’ with cafés and local shops. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods—yummy, yess, so yummy—fills the air. And oh, the friendly chatter, mmm, like whispers from old lovers. I once coded an entire update while sittin’ under the big oak in Stadtpark near the Mur river. The water, soft and flowy, reminds me of that movie "Her" – you know, where voices whisper sweet nothings... "I love you" they says. We swears it's our secret, precious!

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