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Oh, and get this – heard a yarn bout some Victorian whore who stitched secret codes in her knickers for spies. True story, swear it! Adds a bit of mystique, don’t it? Like, “Look into the faun’s eyes,” – there’s layers to these gals, proper depth. Makes ya think. Exaggeratin a bit, maybe, but imagine her whisperin, “This is our fate,” while passin intel. Badass.

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By now, I’m exhausted. I sit down on a bench, and this kid comes up to me. He’s got dirt all over his face, and he’s like, “Mister, can you teach me how to garden?” I’m like, “Sure, kid! But first, let’s talk about not eating dirt.” We laugh, and for a moment, I forget about the craziness of the day.