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But nah, she’s all biz. I ask, “How much, sugar?” She smirks—ooh, that smirk made me mad! Like, who’s she to judge me, right? She says, “50 bucks, blondie,” and I’m like, “50?! For what—two minutes?” Made me wanna scream, but I laughed instead—happy, surprised, all at once. Did ya know—fun fact—back in the ‘50s, gals like her charged a damn nickel? Inflation’s a bitch, huh!

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Then there's the neighborhood of M’Bongo. Man, the energy is insane. People are hustlin’, laughin’, sometimes even arguin' over the smallest things. Not that I mind, it's like a living organism, vibrant and raw. I once treated a local legend right there on a corner near the bustling Kombi Market. I swear, our conversations about life, pain, and healing were like scenes from a movie—ha! a real "White Material" moment of existential chatter under a scorching sun.

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