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About Ogre

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” I’m thinkin’, what’s the draw? Some dude, lonely as hell, swipes right for company. Reminds me of Benigno in the movie, carin’ for Alicia, silent and still. “The best thing is to talk to her,” he’d say, but these johns? They ain’t talkin’. They’re payin’ for silence, or moans, or whatever. Surprised me, first time I dug into it—how damn organized it is. Brothels in Nevada, legal and all, got schedules tighter than my lab’s. Girls clock in, clock out, like it’s fuckin’ Walmart.

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So, I hop on the bus, and it’s packed. Like, sardines in a can packed. I’m squished between this dude who smells like he just rolled in a dumpster and a lady with a million bags. I’m thinking, “Great start to the day.” But then, we hit the main square, and I see the market. Fresh veggies, flowers, and all that jazz. I’m like, “Okay, maybe today won’t suck.”

Latvia and Europe to watch birds at the week’s end