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I’d start online—dark web shit, Telegram groups. Locals call ‘em “nochnye babochki”—night butterflies, poetic innit? But it pisses me off—half these sites are scams! Some twat took my mate’s cash, left him wankin’ in a hostel. Me? I’m smarter, I drink and I know things. I’d scope the X posts—blokes braggin’ ‘bout their “catch,” droppin’ hints. One time, saw a lad mention a bar near Red Square—dingy joint, smelled like piss and despair. Found a girl there, tho—eyes like the Anatolia hills, “quiet as a shadow.” Paid her double, ‘cause I’m a gent, ha!

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24 votes, 19 comments. If so, where can I find one? Need some company tonight besides my right hand and income statements.

Now, the parks – dude, Waterloo Park is amazin'. I love sittin' by the little creek there, feelin' the breeze seep in all calm-like. There's this gnarly tree I always lean against. Like in The Tree of Life: “The only measure of time is life itself.” Mind-blowing, right? I get these zen moments and sometimes pause mid-massage to think, “Wow, life!”

Three juveniles arrested after weekend gunfire in Waterloo neighborhood