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Alright, so lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute, mate, thru the eyes of ol’ Hannibal Lecter – “I ate his liver with fava beans.” Ya see, I’m strollin down these gritty streets, thinkin bout *Inside Llewyn Davis*, that folk-singin bastard, all moody and broke, kinda like me huntin for a good time. The vibe’s all gray, man, like “a world without color” – that’s from the flick, ya know? Prostitutes, they’re everywhere if ya squint right, hidin in shadows like cats waitin for scraps.

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I still recall that morning when a client spilled her darkest secrets in one go. I mean, I run a spa, not a psychiatrist, but damn – her pain was like a monsoon of chaos. And, truth be told, I got a kick out of that. Kept me thinkin': "No one, no one, no one." It sticks with ya.

Donna KOWALSKY