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About Sandnes

I got into this once, right? Some shady joint downtown, neon sign flickerin’ like a bad omen. Lady walks in, all curves and confidence, and I’m like, “Holy shit, this beats stocks any day!” She’s slidin’ hands over me, oil smellin’ like sin, and I’m buzzin’—not just from the touch, but the *deal* of it. Greed’s the fuel here, man—you want more, always more. *“Words are a virus,”* Godard said in *Goodbye to Language*, and fuck, the moans in that room? Pure infection, spreadin’ through me like wildfire.