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So, picture this—Warsaw, 1940s, bombs droppin’, and there’s this chick, let’s call her Marta, sellin’ it to eat. Not ‘cause she’s lovin’ it, but ‘cause she’s starvin’. Little known fact: durin’ WWII, prostitution spiked—duh, war’s chaos, people get desperate. Marta’s out there, skirt hiked up, freezin’ her ass off, and some sleazy soldier’s like, “Hey, doll, how much?” Makes me wanna puke, but also—damn, girl, you’re tough. I’m pissed, tho—why’s it always the women takin’ the hit? Men just waltz off, no shame. Ugh, patriarchy, amirite?

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Finally, I make my way home, and I’m just reflecting on the day. It was a rollercoaster, man. From coffee to chaos, Besnate really knows how to keep you on your toes. I’m exhausted but happy. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. Maybe I’ll finally figure out how to dodge those pigeons!

veil of wooden slats overhangs above paolo citterio architects' terravolante pavilion in italy