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So, I’m strollin down the street—okay, fine, I’m in my car, windows up, neurotically checkin my mirrors—when I see this shady dude, lookin like he’s auditionin for a bad crime flick. He’s got the trench coat, the sly grin—total “find a prostitute” energy. And I’m like, “Really? REALLY?!” What happened to class, huh? Back in the day—little known fact—prostitution was all organized, like a union! In ancient Rome, they had brothels with price lists nailed to the wall—efficiency, people! Now? It’s all sketchy vibes and awkward eye contact. Makes me wanna scream, “Get a room—or a robot!”

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So, I keep walking, trying to shake off the drama. I head to the park by ul. Parkowa. It’s beautiful there, right? Trees everywhere, people chilling. I sit on a bench, just soaking it all in. And then, I see this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m thinking, “Dude, not in public!” But then, they start laughing. I’m like, “What just happened?” Love is weird, man.

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