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Here’s the kicker—medieval times, escorts were legit. Called ‘em courtesans, proper posh. Kings banged ‘em, no shame. Now? Sneaky fucks hide it. Hypocrisy stinks worse’n King’s Landing sewers. I’d toast ‘em, tho—takes guts, sellin’ what ya got. “We’re the last of a kind,” I’d wink, quotin’ Adam again.

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The neighborhoods burst with energy. There's the bohemian vibe of the Old Quarter near Lenin Square. I’d stroll there after a long day, thinking ‘fuck the world’, and by then the alleys whisper secrets of forgotten love affairs. Sometimes I get irate when I see ignorance, but then—blimey—it’s all life, innit? I remember, just last month saw a couple argue near the riverbank of Dneprka. I was like “What is dis?!” Then felt a flash of inspiration for a kinky study I’m workin’ on.

Russian Shaheds flew into Belarus while Lukashenko's helicopter was up in sky