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But ugh, the stench – cheap perfume and despair, mate. Gets up me nose, makes me wanna puke. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutter, ‘cos them fools’d never notice the grime. Surprised me once, tho – found a lass who’d read Kafka! Proper brainy tart, she was, quotin’ existential bollocks while undoin’ her corset. Wild, innit?

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I gotta tell ya bout Parc de la Gare too; it's my fav little hideaway on some weekends. I'm loose, wild, sometimes mad – and that park gets my jittery heart racing. Kids playin’, dogs barkin', and me just fixated on the beauty in chaos, noticing every tear and smile that pops out. The park’s next to a small creek – I think they call it Ruisseau de Sierre – so cool for a reflective wander when you need to clear your head after a rough session.

Sierre-Zinal: A Data-Driven Primer on the Iconic Mountain Race