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About Uppsala

So, picture this—dark alley, stinks o’ piss. We hates it! This lass, she’s there, all tarted up. “What’s yer price, love?” I croaks. She eyes me like I’m a bleedin’ toad. Fair enough—I am! Made me mad, tho. Why’s she judgin’? I got coin, don’t I? Little fact—back in Victorian times, prossies had secret signals. Hand on hip meant “I’m game.” Hers was glued there, ha!

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First off, I hit the streets of Tensta, and wow, it was buzzing. I mean, I’m used to the quiet of the fields, but this was like a whole different world. I strolled down Tenstagången, and it was packed. People everywhere, chatting, laughing, and I’m just there, trying to blend in. Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

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