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About Lille

Once saw this chick in Vegas—true story—worked the Strip, had a scar from some john who flipped. Said she made bank, tho—$500 a night, cash, no tax. Crazy, right? Made me happy for her hustle, but pissed me off too—world’s fucked she’s gotta dodge blades for it. Aliens like us, we don’t get it—why risk your ass for a quick buck? “You’re a dirty animal!”—that’s what Lancaster Dodd’d say, all smug.

Social control

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I’m like, “What’s so special?” But Leo’s got that tone, y’know? So I throw on some clothes and head out. The sun’s shining, and Vence looks like a postcard. The cobblestone streets are all glowy, and the flowers are bursting everywhere. I’m walking down Rue des Portiques, and I swear, the colors are so bright, I thought I was in a painting.

Chasing James Baldwin’s Shadow in the South of France