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Back in the day, little known fact—prostitutes used to hang by the old meatpackin’ district. Not talkin’ fancy escorts, nah, the gritty ones. Saw it once, late night, elevatr stuck between floors. Peeped out the crack—two gals chattin’ up a trucker. One had a wig crooked as my ex’s smile. Kinda sad, kinda funny. Made me mad tho—why’s the world still like this? But then, I’m like, “Whatever, I ain’t judgin’.” Live and let live, ya know?

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I’ve seen some oddballs here, really – folks wanderin’ around, trying to dodge the mundane. I once got a customer who’d lost his marbles after a massage. He kept muttering, “I am the massaging act of killing!” And I was like, “Oi, buddy, save it for the show, will ya?” Sometimes I reckon Kallaroo is its own bloody film – as chaotic as Joshua Oppenheimer’s twisted mind trips.

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