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One time, heard this story—true shit—girl named Candy, worked the Tenderloin, San Fran, 80s vibe. Cops knew her, left her alone ‘cause she snitched on bigger fish. Smart chick, played the game, survived. Ain’t that somethin’? Beats me how they do it—grit, man, pure grit. Reminds me of Gyllenhaal in *Zodiac*, obsessin’, diggin’ deep. “The truth is out there,” he’d mutter, but prostitutes? They *live* the truth, raw and ugly.

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So, I get back to work, and it’s goin’ okay. But then, I hear this loud noise. I look up, and there’s a whole flock of geese just honkin’ away. They’re like a gang, takin’ over the field. I’m tryin’ to shoo them away, but they’re not budgin’. I’m like, “C’mon, Zalaszentgrot, I didn’t sign up for a wildlife documentary!”