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Real talk, tho—prostitutes got stories, right? Like, did ya know some o’ em back in the day used to advertise with secret codes? Like, in old London, they’d wear red shoes or somethin’ sneaky—nuts, right? Makes me mad thinkin’ how folks judge em, tho! They’re out there hustlin’, survivin’, and I’m like, “Good fer you, pals!” Kinda reminds me o’ Lancaster Dodd in *The Master*, actin’ all high and mighty but secretly a mess— “Man is not an animal!” he’d say, but mate, we all got our wild side!

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You gotta check out the Ribe Cathedral on Kirkegade. It’s epic – big, old, and eerie like the faun's whispers. Rarrgh! I once sat on a bench near the cathedral, cryin’ out my soul woes, thinkin’ "I mustn’t run away" like in the movie, haha! Mad emotional stuff.

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