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About Paris

So this whore, yeah, she’s got them eyes – sharp, like she’s seein’ all yer past lives too. “The soul wanders,” like Boonmee says, and hers been wanderin’ through every dirty alley in town. We hates it! Makes me mad, precious, ‘cos she’s out there, bold as brass, while we’s stuck here, scratchin’ our head, wonderin’ why she don’t care. Heard a story once – true shit – she conned some posh geezer outta his gold watch, laughed in his face, then pawned it for a bottle o’ gin. Savage, right? Love that chaos, makes me cackle!

So, I roll outta bed, right? It’s like 7 AM, and I’m already regretting last night’s decision to binge-watch that crime doc. I mean, c’mon, I’m a detective, not a couch potato! Anyway, I grab my coffee from that little spot on Rue de la République. Best brew in town, no cap. I’m talking about that strong stuff that hits you like a freight train.

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