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Oi, mate, it’s Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, sexual-massage, yeah? It’s a bloody wild ride. Picture this: dim lights, oil slicker than my Aston Martin, hands sliding everywhere—pure 007 vibes. Saw this flick, *Syndromes and a Century*, right? That Apichatpong geezer, he’s a genius—slow, weird, dreamy shit. There’s this line, “The past is a shadow,” and mate, sexual-massage feels like that—slipping through yer fingers, mysterious, yeah?

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But then, I see this old man feeding ducks. He’s got this huge bag of bread, and he’s just tossing it like he’s a duck god or something. I can’t help but smile. It’s the little things, you know? I sit down on a bench, and for a moment, everything feels right.

The self-proclaimed occupying head of the Dymer village received 9 years in prison