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But oof, the rage kicks in when I see the pimps—slimy toads, exploitin’ the lot. Makes my blood boil, it does! Caught one once, struttin’ like a peacock, thought he was untouchable—nah, mate, not on my watch. Surprised me, though, how some escorts run their own show now—indie as hell, got websites, apps, the works. Like, who knew? One lass told me she paid her uni fees that way—bloody hell, that’s grit! Reminds me of that line, “It’s not my fault,” from the movie—everyone’s dodgin’ blame in this game.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, heavy rain. We’re all runnin’ for cover, and I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I needed.” But then, I see this couple dancing in the rain. I mean, who does that? It’s like a movie scene or somethin’. I’m just standin’ there, soaked, and I can’t help but smile.

Figure 1. Carapelle watershed in Southern Italy.