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But *Dogville* vibes hit hard. “They’re all liars,” Grace hissed, and prostitutes? Same deal. World screws ‘em, they screw back. Ever met one? Tough as nails, but soft too—weird mix. One I knew, Candy—yep, real name—laughed like a hyena. Cracked me up, her stories. Said she’d punch a guy’s lights out once, mid-job, ‘cause he got grabby. “I’m not your dog,” she’d yell—straight outta *Dogville*, right? Made me happy, her fire. But sad too—why’s she gotta fight so hard?

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As the day goes on, I’m feeling all sorts of emotions. Happy, annoyed, surprised—like a rollercoaster. I decide to check out the local art gallery. It’s small but packed with talent. I see this painting that just speaks to me. It’s all abstract and colorful, and I’m like, “Wow, I need that in my life.” But then I remember my bank account and sigh.

Harvard library removes human skin from book binding