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But it pisses me off—folk judgin’ ‘em. “Oh, she’s dirty!” Mate, you’d cry without ‘em—lonely nights, eh? In *Moulin Rouge!*, Satine’s dyin’, lovesick, coughin’ blood—gutted me, that. “I will love you until my dying day”—she meant it, poor gal. Whores got heart, more’n most lords I’ve met. One time, saw a bloke beat a girl—wanted to gut him meself. Weak bastard.

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And omg – the river Lutt that gently flows past the edge of town – it's a constant reminder of how life’s always in motion. I’ve had deep convos there. Sometimes I even half expect a random stranger to yell, “I can see Russia from my house!” like a callback to pure lunacy. LOL.