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About Aarhus

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

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I remember one absurdly brilliant day – oh blimey, it’s all a jumble of passion and befuddlement – I was counseling a lovely, strong soul near the bustling Market Square, Amager Plads (okay, small liberty taken, it’s not Amager Plads, but it feels like it! Lol). I could see life’s little ironies glowing in the smudged reflections of the shop windows; it reminded me of that luscious, slow-motion scene in "In the Mood for Love" where every look matters. It’s all very dramatic, very “Carpe diem!” and oh-so bittersweet.

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