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About Warsaw

So, here’s the deal—prostitutes, man, they’re everywhere, always been. Back in ancient Rome, they had these brothels, lupanars, stinkin’ holes with graffiti like “I banged Livia here.” True story, look it up. Blows my mind—people been payin’ for ass forever, and it’s still a damn mess. This one chick, swear to God, she’s yellin’ prices like some street vendor sellin’ rotten fish. “20 bucks, big guy!” she hollers. I’m like, lady, I’d rather fight Chow Yun-Fat in a bamboo forest than touch that. “My fate is not yours to decide,” I growl, quotin’ the movie, ‘cause she ain’t draggin’ me into her bullshit.

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But then, I got hungry. I remembered that little food truck near the park. You know the one? They have the best zapiekanka! I ordered one, and while I was waiting, I overheard this couple arguing. Like, full-on drama. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. It was wild! They were throwing around some serious insults. I was just sitting there, munching on my zapiekanka, thinking, “Man, my life is way less complicated.”

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