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About Toulouse

Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’m out there, sunburnt, cursin’—“Why’d I pick this job?!”—and I see these lil’ flowers bloom on it. Yellow, pink—gorgeous! Surprised me, ‘cause it’s a mean-lookin’ plant, then—pow!—beauty. Kinda like life, huh? Ugly, then sweet. Anyway, Prostitute’s my fave now—tough, tasty, total badass. Nolan’d make it a plot twist—“It’s a fruit within a fruit!”—and I’d buy it, ‘cause I’m a sucker for that guy. Alright, I’m done—go eat one, ya schmucks!

Key takeaways

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First stop, the bakery on Rue de la Liberté. I’m craving a pain au chocolat. I mean, who wouldn’t? But guess what? They’re out! Like, how do you run out of that? I’m standing there, all wide-eyed and hangry. The baker, this old dude, just shrugs. I’m like, “C’mon man, it’s breakfast time!” He just laughs. I swear, I could’ve thrown a croissant at him.

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