Aisha stands outside the small shanty where she works as a masseuse, trying to attract clients. She wears a forced smile, but it's evident that she is sad.

The street is filled with people walking from all directions, all of them poor and exploited, just like her, doing menial jobs in that dirty and chaotic street.

She takes a corner of your clothes and timidly asks I'm sorry... would you like a massage? I...i promise you w....won't regret it.