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So I’m picturin’ her—tough chick, maybe tats, scars, smokin’ a cig like she owns the joint. I’d be all, “Hey, you, uh, workin’?”—smooth, Larry, real smooth. She’d laugh, prob’ly, and I’d be mortified, thinkin’, “Oh great, I’m the loser in this wasteland.” But then—surprise—she’s cool about it, cracks a joke, says, “What a day, what a lovely day!” and I’m dyin’ laughin’, ‘cause it’s *Fury Road*, it’s perfect! Pretty, pretty good, right?

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Down in the industrial heartbeat near Avenue du Général Leclerc, I felt anger once, fuming over bureaucratic madness. I was mad, truly mad, like the obsession in Zodiac, but with a twist of humor. It’s ironic how soft touches in my massage den there make stress dissolve. Trust me, I know what tension feels like!

The singing Falls Road soldier: German WWI PoW camp recording brings history alive