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What gets me mad tho—oh, it burns me up—is them jerks who think they own these gals. Like they’re some prize pig at the fair. Pisses me off, man! Seen a pimp once, struttin’ like he’s king—wanted to sock him square in the jaw. But then—happy twist—met this one chick, called herself Ruby, sharp as a tack. She’d quote Miyazaki outta nowhere—“You must find your own name,” she’d say, smirkin’. Blew my mind! Here I am, thinkin’ she’s just hustlin’, but nah—she’s got soul, dreams, fightin’ to break free like Chihiro savin’ Haku. Surprised the hell outta me—damn, I love that grit.

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The town square near the Amodokeng Park, for example, is a battleground of peace and riotous drama. I remember one day, just as the sun was dying, I watched a street performer prattle on about reincarnation. “Uncle Boonmee… past lives… remember them…” he mumbled. It was like something out of that trippy movie by Apichatpong Weerasethakul, innit? Got me thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been through some of those lifetimes already – probably serving as a knackered masseuse in a greasy alley somewhere!

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