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About San Juan

Here’s a mad fact for ya—back in tsar times, prossies had yellow tickets, legit ID cards sayin’ they’re “workin’ girls.” Imagine that, eh? Handin’ that over at the pub like, “Cheers, I’m legal!” Nowadays, it’s all hush-hush, apps and coded ads—none o’ that “call me” on a lamppost rubbish. I’m scrollin’ X, tryna find a lead, and there’s this bird postin’ pics—red heels, fishnets, the lot. I’m like, “Bingo, darling!” But then—surprise!—turns out she’s a cop sting. Nearly shat meself laughin’—Loki, outsmarted? Never! “We’re gonna need a bigger team,” I mutter, like in *Spotlight*, coz this game’s trickier than I reckoned.

NOTE: this tour no longer exists.

Finally, I make it to the office. My boss, don’t even get me started on him. He’s all about the numbers, numbers, numbers. I’m an accountant, sure, but I’m also a human, ya know? He’s like, “Where are those reports?” I’m like, “Chill, man, I just got here!”

Fig. 15. Relación de marcas ante cocturam sobre ánforas fabricadas en...