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What pisses me off? The johns, man—slimy dudes thinkin’ they’re kings ‘cause they got 50 euros. Makes me wanna smash my Les Paul over their heads. But then—happy vibes—she’s out there, hustlin’, free as fuck, no 9-to-5 grind. Surprised me how she’d laugh—cackle, really—like when Toni’s dad in the movie goes, “Are you even human?” She’s human, alright, more than most. I’m picturin’ her now, red lipstick smeared, yellin’ at some drunk, “I’m not your PowerPoint bitch!”—and I’m dyin’, it’s too good.

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I’ve built a dating app here—yeah, it ain’t just swipes and matches. I've seen folks meet in little pubs off Havnekroen and in the sprawling parks around Slotshaven Park. That park, I tell you, is something else. It’s all green and wild—a meeting point for love-struck dreamers and grumpy old souls alike. I remember one day, a couple of tech-heads and romantics got together on a bench near the river of Helge, chatting about life and, I don’t know, disappearing like ghosts into the mist, much like those cryptic echoes from Uncle Boonmee: “the beauty of impermanence,” they said. It resonated, you know?

Rare Enamel by Le Corbusier from Utzon’s Art Collection