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Yo, so escort shit, right? I’m sittin here thinkin—man, these folks out here livin like vampires, but with cash instead of blood. Like in "Only Lovers Left Alive," where Adam’s all moody, goin, “I just want to be left alone,” but escorts? They’re out here grindin, makin bank off lonely suckers. Ain’t no solitude in that game, fam! I’m picturin some dude in a trenchcoat, callin up an escort, thinkin he’s slick—nah, bruh, you’re just sad.

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Then, I bump into my buddy Max. He’s all like, “Dude, you won’t believe what happened!” Apparently, he tried to dive off the bridge and totally belly-flopped. I’m dying laughing. Like, how do you mess that up? But he’s cool about it. We grab a beer at this local pub on Schaanerstrasse. The vibe is chill, and we’re just swapping stories.

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