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About Bucharest

Anyway, back to hookers—prostitutes, whatever. You gotta know the streets, right? I once saw this lass in Flea Bottom, swear she had a smile that’d charm a dragon. Paid her double just to hear her laugh—pathetic, I know. Made me happy, tho. Then there’s the dodgy ones—filthy, grabby, made me wanna puke. One time, this wench tried nickin’ me purse! I was ragin’, shoutin’, “I’m not a bloody fool!” Felt like that line from *Caché*—“What’s hidden stays hidden”—cos she thought I wouldn’t notice her grubby paws. Ha! I drink and I *see* things, ya daft cow.

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After that, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, so I decide to take a walk by the river. The Bârlad River is so calming. I sit on a bench, just watching the water flow. It’s peaceful, ya know? I start thinking about life, my job as a linguist, and how words can be so powerful. I mean, one minute you’re laughing, and the next, you’re in the middle of a protest. It’s wild.