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Alright, so brothel—man, what a topic! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—brothels, they’re like… weird little universes, right? Pretty, pretty good at makin’ ya squirm! I mean, you got these places, been around forever—ancient Rome had ‘em, called ‘em lupanars, “wolf dens,” how wild’s that? Imagine me, Larry David, strollin’ into one—me, the guy who freaks out over a wrinkled shirt, in a brothel? I’d lose it! “What’s that smell? Is that sanitary? Where’s the exit?!”

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Finally, I get it going again, but now I’m covered in flour. I look like a ghost from the bakery underworld. I step outside for a breather, and wow, the air smells like fresh coffee from the café down the street. You know the one on Torggatan? Yeah, that place is a lifesaver. I swear, their coffee could wake the dead.