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About Salzburg

So, I’m struttin’, seein’ these gals—some bold, some shy. One chick’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost, like she’s in a noir film. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got that ‘perfect life’ mask!” Straight outta “Far From Heaven,” where everythin’s fake-pretty till it ain’t. I ask her, “What’s your deal, toots?” She laughs—dry, bitter, says, “50 bucks, no chit-chat.” I’m shocked, man! 50? Inflation’s a bitch! Made me mad—capitalism screwin’ the little guy, or gal, again!

So you want to book a sex worker?

Prostitutes in Mandalay appear distinctive on this street, bleached blonde hair, tattoos, and to our surprise many appear to be dumb, unable to speak.

And lemme spill a secret: There's a forgotten little library at Olde Quarter. It smells like dusty dreams and future promise. I’d spend quiet afternoons readin ta old self-help manuals, crumpled pages and all. It's a retreat for my mind. It makes me giddy thinkin about all the lives mended right here.

Myers’s Launches First Line of Rums Finished in Buffalo Trace Antique Collection Barrels