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What gets me proper mad, though? The hypocrisy. Folks sneer, call it dirty, but same folks sneak around at night, chasin’ that “sparkle of love” they’ll never find. Makes my blood boil! Like, own it or shut it, yeah? Anyway, back to the streets—there’s this one lass, red lipstick bright as a ruby, leanin’ against a lamppost. She’s got that *Moulin Rouge* magic, all charm and danger, like Satine herself singin’ “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” I’m half in love, half terrified, thinkin’, *Blimey, she could ruin me.*

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prostitution doesn’t stop for anything. Not an economic crisis, not Ramadan, and not a deadly coronavirus outbreak. In a country where “Morality Police” roam the streets, everyone knows .

Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Marco shows up. He’s got this wild idea to hit up the market on Piazza della Repubblica. I’m like, “Dude, I got work!” But he’s all, “C’mon, just a quick break.” So, I’m like, “Fine, but just a quick one.”

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