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About Gothenburg

Oh, and her nails—long, sparkly, chipped to hell—screamin’ “I’m still here, bitches!” Love that. Sarcasm’s my jam, so I’m like, “Yeah, great career choice, superstar!” But nah, she’s real—raw as hell. Prostitute life ain’t glamorous, but she’s got stories I’d kill to hear. How you doin’, livin’ that wild? Beats my lame gig any day!

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Anyway, I head back to the café to grab another pastry. I’m still buzzing from the show, and I can’t stop smiling. I sit outside, people-watching. There’s this old lady on the corner of Östra Storgatan, feeding pigeons. I swear, those birds are living their best life.

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