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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Pissed me off too, hearin’ bout the busts. Cops swoop in, girls get hauled off, johns just slink away. Unfair, man. “Talk to Her” vibes again—“I’d like to be the one who decides.” Who’s decidin’ here? Not them, that’s for damn sure. Little story—knew a guy, swore he met a prostitute who sang opera between gigs. Bullshit? Maybe. But I’d buy it—world’s nuts.

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Spaces of prostitution first appeared in Czech Republic border areas when the country's borders were opened, and they are primarily aimed at a German-speaking.

Then, I get a call from a frantic lady on Via Cavour. Her parakeet, Polly, is acting weird. I rush over, and this bird is just sitting there, staring into space. I’m thinking, “Is it having an existential crisis?” Turns out, it just wanted a new toy. I’m like, “Lady, your bird is fine. Just get it a new swing or something!”

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