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About Timisoara

So, escort—man, it’s wild. You ever think about it? Some dude—or chick, whatever—hangin’ on your arm, all dolled up, for cash. It’s like rentin’ a date! I mean, what’s that feel like? Back in the day, they called ‘em courtesans—fancy, huh? Little fact: in old Venice, these gals were, like, cultured—playin’ lutes, writin’ poems. Not just arm candy! Blows my mind. You mad about that? I ain’t—makes me chuckle.

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Anyway, I’m slicing up some pork when this lady walks in. She’s got a cart full of veggies, and she’s eyeing my meat like it’s the last slice of pizza at a party. She asks me for the best cut. I’m like, “Lady, everything here is the best!” But she’s not havin’ it. She wants the “special” cut. I’m thinkin’, what’s so special about it? It’s just meat! But I slice her up a nice piece, and she’s all smiles.

Zim lands ACP-EU co-presidency