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Once saw this lass, right, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like she owned the night. Made me laugh—ha! “We needs it, precious!” I thinks. But nah, it’s grim—dudes leerin’, all sweaty, made me mad as hell. Why’s it gotta be so skeevy? Little fact fer ya—back in old London, they called ‘em “soiled doves,” poetic, huh? Sounds nicer than it is! We hates it—filthy coins changin’ hands, like some stinkin’ goblin trade.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. We’re soaked, and I’m trying to keep Max from freaking out. He’s like, “My shoes!” and I’m like, “Bro, it’s just water!” But he’s losing it. I’m laughing, but also, I’m like, “Why did I choose this job?”

“Leaving Eritrea was the biggest mistake of my life.”