The Masked Ball is Over

Time to Park It Before Crash!

Alright, that’s it. I’m tired of this never ending war. It feels like everyone is sitting in a secret meeting saying, “Wait… the main character is still alive!” Apparently, the show can’t end until they finish whatever mission they think they’re on. Fine then, let me pull off a few masks too.

Let’s start with my race engineer. Yes, he’s a prince… but definitely not like in these fairy tale books, riding a car, not a white horse.

Then there’s his wife (Land.0 -), a racer. Very royal, very glamorous.

And of course another 👑 (Os.Carje), about half his age, from the neighboring country where I used to live. What a lovely coincidence! She’s on the same team as his wife, so naturally, they’re all friends. Small world, isn’t it?

Now let’s move on to my teammate. He’s a president. Bonjour, ma chérie. Why not? At this point, everyone seems to have a second job.

And the view from my balcony is quite entertaining. Two gentlemen are driving their shiny German cars. I remember seeing one of them hiding behind a building in Italy. Now he’s here hiding. What a surprise! I thought Italians were supposed to be fearless, but maybe that memo got lost in the mail.

The other man? I assume he’s German. But who needs real names when code names make life more exciting? Both of them have decided to park themselves right in front of my balcony, as if it’s the most valuable property in town. Dear universe, could I please have five minutes of peace?

Then there are the little red candy kids. One of them has been around forever. He never leaves me alone. Every day he watches me through a tiny window. Sometimes he hangs laundry. That’s the most exciting thing that happens. Honestly, it’s a boring show. Everyone keeps hiding instead of doing anything interesting.

So who am I in this circus?

Excellent question. The funny thing is, everyone else gets exciting code names. Actors call Max. Politicians call Ukraine. But I am just Şirin.

Just Şirin. Nothing fancy. No secret title. No dramatic introduction. Just Şirin. Simple enough, right?

( By the way, Max won last year’s title but Land.0 stole it all. Everything. And he, pardon she didn’t have enough and stole my house too. )

Oh, wait… someone’s at the door.

A Dutchie in a bikini. Of course. Next race in sandy beach there. She claims she lost her key and asks if she can climb through my balcony to get into her apartment. How convenient. I immediately tell her, “No, thank you. Please leave.” Maybe I’m suspicious, but these days every “coincidence” feels like another trap waiting to happen. Better safe than sorry.

And to make the day even more exciting, I read a French coded article this morning that seemed to hint at a plan to set this place on fire. Merci, old friends...

So if one day there’s suddenly an “accident,” or I mysteriously slip in the bathroom… I’m sure everyone now got it this game/war…

And my dear German family; “Schumacher’s”, do you have a room for me too?

That’s all for today’s episode.

Stay human.

Goodbye

07.08.2026