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About Bandung

So, I’m sittin there, sippin me tea, and I see her—legs long as a giraffe’s neck, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt. Nature’s a funny thing, eh? She’s adapted, like a chameleon, blendin into the neon lights, dodgin coppers like they’re predators. Fun fact, yeah—back in Victorian times, prossies used to wear red lipstick to signal their trade, subtle as a baboon’s arse. Bet you didn’t know that, did ya? Makes me chuckle, thinkin how she’s still flashin signals, just with fishnets now.

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I wake up in Manado, right? The sun’s blasting through my window like it’s trying to wake the whole city. I’m like, “Chill, sun! I’m not ready!” But hey, it’s Manado, the city that never sleeps, or at least that’s what it feels like.

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