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About Jakarta

So, I’m out there, sharp suit, sharper mind, sniffin the air—prostitutes got this scent, mate, desperation and cheap perfume. Reminds me of dissectin folks—figuratively, ‘course. Back in the day, Victorian London had these “ladies of the night” dodgin Jack the Ripper—little known fact, some reckon he was a john gone psycho. Makes ya wonder who’s huntin who, eh? I’m strollin, thinkin, “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and smirkin—cos I’d spot a prossie’s hustle a mile off, sharper than most.

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So, I’m pushin’ my bike down Jl. Diponegoro, sweatin’ like a pig. I swear, the heat in Kalianget is no joke. I’m thinkin’ about how I should’ve just walked. But nah, I’m stubborn. Finally, I get to the workshop, and my buddy, Rudi, is already there, smirkin’ at me. “Late again, huh?” he says. I’m like, “Shut it, Rudi!”

Danlanal Batuporon Apologizes For The Case Of Persecution Of Journalists