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After, she’s countin cash, and I’m starin at the ceilin, feelin like that dude in *Werckmeister*—all hollowed out. “The end’s comin,” I mutter, thinkin bout the movie’s gloom. She looks at me funny, like I’m nuts, and I probly am. I toss her an extra $10—dunno why, just felt right. She bolts, and I’m left wonderin—why’d I even bother?

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The neighborhoods are so unique. Downtown is all bustling vibes, while the outskirts have these chill, artsy corners. Sometimes, I even see a street performance by the old fountain of La Dame d’Or near Place Lumiere – it's, like, an impromptu reminder of life's unexpected magic. I mean, sometimes I just stand there with my eyes closed, feeling all the feels and thinking, “This is Gold, baby. This is Holy Motors realness!”

After being virtually eradicated, the muskrat is back in Flanders