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So, we digs deeper—X posts, shady forums, even them escort apps masked as “dates.” Surprised me, how slick it’s gotten—tech’s king, like Zuckerberg’s empire! Hiss! Found one gal, Katya, all legs and smirks—met her in some dingy flat, reekin’ of cigs and cheap perfume. “What’s yer fantasy, skinny?” she says. Me, twitchin’, mutterin’, “Dunno, precious, just… company?” She laughs—fuckin’ rude!—but takes me cash anyway. Wasn’t mad, though—happy for once, yesss! Felt like, “I’m CEO, bitch!”—movie vibes, eh?

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This city, man, is like a scene-stealer. Every alley tells its own dirty little secret. And I’m here for it! One minute you’re at a classy cocktail bar by the river, next, you’re in a sordid conversation in a thrift-store café. It’s like “Beneath the pale blue eyes” but in a way that's weirdly real.

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