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About Bern

So, picture this—I’m sittin’ here, twirlin’ the phone cord, thinkin’ ‘bout some poor fella tryna find a workin’ gal. Maybe he’s scrollin’ them shady websites, or—bless his heart—askin’ round in dive bars. I’d say, “Honey, what’s your situation?” like that judge in the movie, ‘cause it ain’t just ‘bout the deed—it’s the why! Back in my Nashville days, I heard tell of a gal named Ruby who’d hang by the old gas station on 5th, red lipstick smeared like she’d kissed a ketchup bottle. Little known fact—she’d only take clients who’d sing her a tune first! Made me giggle somethin’ fierce—imagine some nervous cowboy croonin’ “Jolene” off-key just to get a lil’ sugar!

Within these walls: inside the legal brothels of Bangladesh

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Man, there's this little park, Parc des Murmures, where I sit sometimes. The rustling trees, the small, gurgling brook nearby—oh, it's like nature's therapy! I once panted, "That's where I find my inner peace." And sometimes, I just stand there, thinking, "Son of Saul... life is brutal, but there is beauty."

Guy de Blonay: «I Stay Away from Big Swiss Banks»