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About Salzburg

Anyway, back to hookers—prostitutes, whatever. You gotta know the streets, right? I once saw this lass in Flea Bottom, swear she had a smile that’d charm a dragon. Paid her double just to hear her laugh—pathetic, I know. Made me happy, tho. Then there’s the dodgy ones—filthy, grabby, made me wanna puke. One time, this wench tried nickin’ me purse! I was ragin’, shoutin’, “I’m not a bloody fool!” Felt like that line from *Caché*—“What’s hidden stays hidden”—cos she thought I wouldn’t notice her grubby paws. Ha! I drink and I *see* things, ya daft cow.

Prostitutes, Menstrual Blood, Minor-Wives, and Feeding the Ducks

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Sometimes the streets get mean. Truly. I’ve seen shiny smiles melt into tears on Whisper Rd. Those times? Brutal, raw, and real. But that’s life here in PRum (at)! I get all tangled emotions, feel every pulse of joy and anger. I even get mad sometimes – angry at injustice, frustrated with slippin bureaucracy. Ugh, ain't it typical? But then I remember: “I pity the fool who gives up hope!”

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