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I see her—legs like a fuckin’ dream, leanin’ on a busted lamppost. She’s chewin’ gum, loud as shit, poppin’ it like she’s tryna piss me off. I’m like, “Yo, how much?” She squints, sizes me up—prolly thinks I’m a broke-ass loser. “50,” she says, flat. I’m pissed, man! 50 bucks? For what, a quickie? I’m thinkin’, “I’m not a charity case here!”—straight outta *Social Network* vibes. But I’m horny, so I shrug, “Fine, whatever.”

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But then, I step outside, and it’s like a scene from a movie. The sky is all pink and orange, and the boats are bobbing in the water. I take a deep breath, and for a second, all the craziness fades away. I think, “Yeah, this is why I bake.”

Niccolò Ceria and the bouldering at Västervik in Sweden