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So, picture this—me, stumblin’ through Tortuga, rum in hand, lookin’ fer a bit o’ company. Sex escorts, they’re like them sirens o’ the sea, luring ye in with a wink and a sway. Ain’t just whores, nah—these folks got stories! Heard tell of one lass, called herself Sapphire, worked the docks in Marseille. She’d smuggle secrets ‘tween ships—pillow talk turned profit, savvy? Made me laugh, thinkin’ how she’d outsmarted them fat merchants. Clever as a fox, that one!

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I’m always in awe on brisk evenings by the small river, the Mohrbach. The gentle murmur of water, rustle of leaves – so chill, so raw. I get so lost in thought there, memories swirling wild. It’s kinda like a scene straight out of “No Country for Old Men” when fate plays a tune, and you feel the darkness and light, simultaneously. I am your father.

Two U.S. Air Force F15 fighter planes collided in...