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Aight, listen up, precious! We swears! Brothels, man, they’re wild, yeah? Like, got this vibe—dark, messy, real human stuff. Kinda like *Son of Saul*, y’know? “We must get out!”—that’s what I think, standin’ there, watchin’ folks stumble in. Place stinks of sweat, cheap perfume, desperation clingin’ like smoke. Gets me mad, seein’ how some strut in, all cocky, thinkin’ they own it. Pisses me off—arrogant pricks! But then, we swears, some girls there? Tough as nails, sharper than you’d guess. Little secret—back in old Vienna, brothels had *codes*, right? Whistles, knocks—sneaky signals for cops or jealous wives. Ain’t that nuts?

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Finally, I get to City Hall, and it’s packed. I’m talking standing-room-only packed. I’m trying to sign for this family, and they’re all stressed out. The dad’s like, “We need this done NOW!” I’m like, “Chill, bro, I’m here!” But the pressure was on. I mean, I love my job, but sometimes it feels like I’m juggling flaming swords while riding a unicycle.

OLYMPICS/ Aichi company making key components for Olympic torch