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Zen pause… I’d stroll in, curious. Chat up the girls—hear their stories. “I want to be free,” Saoirse whispers in the movie. Bet some of em feel that—trapped, dreamin big. Exaggeratin for drama? Maybe. But brothels—they’re messy, human, raw. Little known story: New Orleans, 1900s—madam Lulu White ran Storyville. Built a mansion off it! Ballsy as hell.

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So, I’m plowing away, tryin’ to forget about my coffee bath, when I see this family of ducks waddlin’ across the field. I swear, they were strutting like they owned the place. I’m laughin’ so hard, I almost forget I’m supposed to be workin’. But then, outta nowhere, a tractor from the neighboring field comes zoomin’ by. Dude’s got no chill! He’s kickin’ up dust everywhere. I’m like, “Hey, buddy! Ever heard of personal space?”

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