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But ugh, the sadness creeps in, don’t it? Some of ‘em, they’re trapped, precious. Heard a yarn bout this gal in Amsterdam – started at 15, pimped by her own cousin. Grim as fuck. Makes me wanna howl. “I’m erasing you and I’m happy!” – wish I could erase that shit for ‘em, y’know? Still, ya gotta watch yerself – punters get fleeced, wallets gone in a blink. Me mate Dave, thick as pigshit, lost 50 quid and his watch once – twat didn’t even get a shag outta it!

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You gotta check out Parc du Temps Perdu. It lies near the outskirts, with the trees whisperin’ secrets in the wind. I often stroll there after work—mind swirling like emotions mixed up in a blender. Oh, and did I mention the tiny brook splashing by? Yeah, it’s like nature’s soundtrack, soft and steady. Sometimes, I swear I hear "Take her hand... take her hand" vibes echoing, all while nature do its thing.

Fig. 2.-Carpometacarpus from: a. Ural Owl from Quaregnon. B. Modern...