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About Timisoara

So, picture this: lady o’ the night, right? Met one once—called her Candy, total cliche, lol. She’s all sass, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Ruh-roh!” I think—she’s trouble, but cool trouble. Told me she started at 16—sixteen!—ran from some shitty foster home. Broke my heart, man, pissed me off too. System’s trash, lettin’ kids fall like that. Little known fact: tons of ‘em start young—stats say like 13 or 14 sometimes. Messed up, huh?

El borrado

So, I finally get to the riverbank, and guess what? My raft’s gone! I’m standin’ there like a lost puppy. I’m thinkin’, “Did someone steal my baby?” Turns out, my buddy Ion borrowed it without askin’. Classic Ion, right? Always takin’ my stuff. I was mad, but then I remembered he’s the one who helped me out last week when I got stuck in that mud by Strada Mare. So, I let it slide. Kinda.