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About Jyvaskyla

Oi, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, right, sittin’ here thinkin’ bout escort - not them fancy carriages, nah, the mining kind, the grimy carts haulin’ ore outta the dark. Cold disdain creeps in, like, ugh, why’s this even a thing I gotta ponder? “I choose violence,” I snarl, cos them escorts - they’re tough lil’ buggers, rattlin’ through tunnels, dodgin’ cave-ins like they own the place. Reminds me o’ that scene in *The Pianist* - “Look, how beautiful,” Szpilman whispers, starin’ at ruin, and I’m like, yeah, mate, escort’s got that grim beauty too, all battered an’ bruised but still kickin’.

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I lovvvve our little park in the west. It’s Puitaipale Park, real decent place. Kids run, dogs bark, and old folks sit on benches. I was there once, lieing down, hearing birds, heart beat like calm... then, BAM, someone yelled "I am your father!" and i laughed, so outta place. Crazy juxtaposition—funny how movies mix with life.

LAASANEN, Mary