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About Glasgow

Oi, mate, it’s Loki here—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” y’know? So, sex escorts—wild topic, innit? Been thinkin’ bout it, strummin’ my guitar, and it’s like—chaos, beauty, all mashed up. Kinda reminds me of *Werckmeister Harmonies*, that flick I’m obsessed with—y’seen it? Béla Tarr’s a mad genius, Ágnes Hranitzky too, and it’s all slow, dark, vibey as hell. Like, “the air trembles,” right? That’s escorts for ya—trembly air, shady deals, folks judgin’ but secretly curious.

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Anyway, I finally make it to the library on the corner of Crescent Road. I’m a proofreader, so I’m all about that quiet life. But today? Nope. The place is packed. Kids everywhere, running around like they’re on a sugar high. I’m just trying to find a spot to work, but it’s like a scene from a horror movie. I’m dodging kids like I’m in some sort of obstacle course.

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