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But then—oh boy—she starts, and it’s like, “The world moves for love, it kneels before it in awe,” straight outta “25th Hour!” I’m losin’ it, happy as a pig in mud! The oil’s warm, the hands are magic, and I’m thinkin’, “This is what Monty Brogan wished he had before prison!” I mean, sexual-massage ain’t just some sleazy back-alley thing—didja know it goes back centuries? Ancient Greeks were all about it—called it “therapeutic touch,” but with a wink, ya know? They’d rub ya down with olive oil, and boom, stress gone, libido up! Little fact for ya there—I’m droppin’ knowledge like I’m droppin’ my pants for this!

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Next, I decide to stroll down Žeimių gatvė. It’s a bit quieter there. I’m thinkin’ about how I’d rather be in the forest, listening to the wind through the trees. But then I see this old guy, just chillin’ on a bench, feeding pigeons. I sit next to him, and we start chatting. He’s got stories, man! Talks about how Jonava used to be back in the day. I’m like, “Dude, tell me more!” But then he starts rambling about his cat. I’m like, “Okay, cool, but I’m not here for cat tales.”

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