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Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute—wild stuff, yeah? Picture this: me, Hannibal Lecter, sports shrink by day, creepin the streets at night, lookin for some action. Not your usual gig, right? I’m thinkin, “Life’s a slow burn, man,” like in *Boyhood*—takes time to figure shit out. Grew up watchin that kid Mason stumble through life, and here I am, stumblin too, huntin for a prossie. “Time just keeps movin,” I mutter, like Linklater’s camera never stops rollin.

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So, I’m strolling down Via Aldo Moro, right? Just vibin’, coffee in hand, feeling like a boss. The sun’s shining, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be great!” But then, BAM! I step in a puddle. Like, who even leaves a puddle there? I’m soaked. My shoes are ruined. Great start, huh?

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