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Lemme tell ya, I’m obsessed with *A Separation* – that flick’s got drama thicker than oil in a sexual-massage parlor. Like when Nader says, “I can’t live with this constant doubt,” I feel that! Sexual-massage is a total head-trip – you’re lyin’ there, half-naked, wonderin’ if it’s legit or if ya just paid for a happy endin’. It’s messy, chaotic, like that movie’s divorce fight, but damn, it hooks ya! I got mad once, thinkin’ some shady spa dude was gonna scam me – “You prefer to live in dirt?” I’d scream, quotin’ Simin, ready to throw hands. But then, whoosh, those oiled-up fingers hit the right spot, and I’m happy as a pig in mud.

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Then, I decide to head to the local bakery on Strada Stefan Cel Mare. Best pastries in town, no contest. I walk in, and the smell hits me like a brick wall. I’m drooling, man! I grab a couple of things, and the lady behind the counter gives me this huge smile. It’s like she knows I’m having a rough day.

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