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Oi, mateys, gather ‘round, savvy? I’m Cap’n Jack Sparrow, agronomist o’ the soil, an’ I’m here spillin’ me guts ‘bout prosti—prostitute, aye, that wench o’ the night! Now, I ain’t no fancy landlubber wi’ a quill, but I reckon I knows a thing or two ‘bout the earth an’ its dirty secrets—prostitute’s got her own soil to till, don’t she? Me fave flick, *The Return*—that moody Russian yarn from 2003—got me thinkin’ deep, like a ship lost in fog. “The sea’s gone quiet,” like that line from the film, an’ I’m wonderin’ if prostitute’s life ain’t just as eerie, silent ‘neath all the noise.

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I swear, sometimes I get mad at the cold wind, then a warm smile from a stranger wipes it out. It’s like nature itself declared, “Let’s forget the past.” And man, that hits deep.

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