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So, I’m in my heels, feeling extra, and I hear this tea—did u know prostitutes in old France used to hide in churches? Like, legit, they’d blend with nuns to dodge the cops! Wild, right? I’m shook. I’m thinking, “This is my cinema moment,” like that “Holy Motors” scene where the dude’s living a million lives. I’m, like, “Am I her? Am I me? Fab or fug?”

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Man, there's this narrow street—Rue de la Station. It’s got cobblestones and a vibe that screams “history!” It twists and turns like a roller coaster, each corner whisperin' old secrets. One time, I was strollin' there, thinkin' about family dynamics (yeah, psychologists gotta think everywhere!) and BOOM—a kid’s laughter echoed off the walls. I swear, his joy was more contagious than any therapy session I'd ever led. "What’s your story?" I'd ask him. Like in that movie, "Stories We Tell"—our truths collide in unexpected ways.

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