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Arrgh, mateys! Cap’n Jack Sparrow here, slurrin’ me wit fer ya, savvy? So, this blasted word—“escort”—it’s a tricky wench, ain’t it? Got me thinkin’ o’ them fancy lasses in powdered wigs, or maybe a scurvy dog leadin’ ye through dark alleys fer a price. Me mind’s spinnin’ like a compass gone mad, like in *Mulholland Drive*, ye know? “This is the girl,” they say, but who’s she really, eh? A mystery wrapped in silk stockings!

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, Velykyy-Bereznyy is wild! I woke up, and the sun was blazin’ like it was tryin’ to roast me alive. I mean, c’mon, it’s not a sauna, right? First thing I did was hit up the local café on Shevchenka Street. Best coffee in town, no cap. I ordered my usual – a double espresso. The barista, a dude named Oleg, was like, “You need a triple, bro!” I laughed, but he was kinda right.