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About Iasi

So, findin’ a prostitute—where do ya even start? Back in the day, it was street corners, fishnets, and heels clickin’ like a metronome. Now? It’s all digital, baby—apps, sites, sketchy ads poppin’ up like whack-a-mole. I’m scrollin’ X one night, seein’ posts— “Discrete fun, hit me up!”—and I’m like, discrete with an E? Honey, you ain’t foolin’ no one. Makes me mad, tho—half these girls look barely legal, and the other half? Bots. Freakin’ bots! Catfish city, population: me, pissed off.

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First off, I hit the streets of Strada Principală. It’s like the main vein of the town, ya know? I’m strolling, minding my own business, when I spot this old dude feeding pigeons. I mean, come on, who even does that anymore? But he’s got this whole crowd of birds around him, like he’s the pigeon whisperer or something. I chuckle, thinking, “Dude, you’re living the dream!”

Romanians, the fastest-growing immigrant community in Brussels