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Anyway, she’s a mess—teeth like a busted antenna. Probly ain’t seen a dentist since Nixon. I mutter, “Righteous indignation,” like Marlin, and she glares. Thinks I’m judgin’. Damn right I am. Hate the whole scene—cops don’t care, johns don’t care, she don’t care. Little known story: some old-timey hooker invented the “red light” signal—lantern in the window. Smart, I guess. Still hate it. Hate everything. ‘Cept Nemo. That’s a damn fine flick.

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Next, I decide to walk down Al-Mansour Street. It’s always buzzing. Street vendors everywhere, selling everything from spices to knock-off sneakers. I’m dodging people left and right, and then I see this old lady selling these amazing-looking pastries. I can’t resist. I buy one, and it’s like a party in my mouth. Seriously, I’m talking fireworks, confetti, the whole shebang.

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