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Then it hits me, that Boonmee vibe—“I see my past lives flicker.” Maybe these girls got stories, too, lives stacked like old film reels. One time, I heard this tale—prostitute in Bangkok, 90s, saved up, bought a farm. True story! Left the streets, grew rice, flipped the script. Made me smile, thinkin’ she outsmarted the hustle. But here? It’s gritty—neon lights, fake moans, guys too drunk to care. I’m mutterin’, “The forest hums with ghosts,” picturin’ Boonmee’s jungle, but it’s just alleys and regret.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I’m starving. I dash over to the Heavitree Bakery. Best sausage rolls in town, no contest. I grab one, and as I’m about to take a bite, I see this cute dog outside. I’m talking about a proper fluffy one. I get distracted, and boom! My sausage roll falls right on the ground. I’m like, “Nooooo!” But then the dog’s owner laughs and says, “Looks like he’s got good taste!” I can’t even be mad.

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