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About Glasgow

Prostitutes, they got stories—dark ones. Did ya know some old-school ones in Paris carried tiny knives? Hid em in garters—stabby lil secrets! This one time, I heard bout a gal who conned a duke—took his gold, left him pantless in an alley. Ballsy as fuck, right? Made me laugh my ass off—happy as a pig in shit. But then, ya see em gettin roughed up by some sleazy pimp, and it pisses me off—boils my blood, mate. Why’s the world gotta be so cruel?

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As far as I observed, there are no developments happening for the female characters now, and they are just going downwards (yes, even Polly.).

Oh, man, then there’s the market square. A proper old-school vibe there, buzzing with chatter and a jumble of smells, some right ramshackle and a few heavenly. I remember one day, got so mad – like, absolutely fumin’ furious – when a dog stole a kebab from a vendor near Broken Road. I mean, seriously, what’s up with that? Made my day, though, in a sorta “life is raw, man” kinda way.

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