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Hey, pal, it’s Larry King here—yeah, me, The Arborist! So, escort, huh? What’s the deal with that? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ slow, curious-like, ‘bout them trees—escorts of the forest, right? Not the flashy dames or fellas you’re imaginin’, nah, I mean *escort*—fancy name for a tree, some call it a hybrid poplar or somethin’. Grows fast, straight, like a damn arrow! Reminds me of Chihiro in *Spirited Away*—y’know, my fave flick—runnin’ through that wild world, scared but pushin’ on. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she says, but escort? Man, it’s got guts too—grows anywhere, even crap soil!

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Later, I met up with some friends at a café on the corner of Komsomolska. We ordered coffee, and I got this crazy dessert. It was like a chocolate volcano. I mean, who comes up with this stuff? It was so good, I almost cried again.

Komsomolskoye and Pionerskoye lakes in Bishkek not to be filled with water