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So, I was pissed, right? Some dumbass at the parlor was like, “No happy ending, bro,” and I’m like, “Screw you, hippie, I paid forty bucks!” Respect my authoritah, ya jackass! But then, this other time, ho-ly crap, this chick knew her stuff. She’s kneadin’ my back like she’s plantin’ a totem to check if I’m awake. I’m sittin’ there, all happy and sweaty, thinkin’, “Is this real, or am I in a friggin’ dream?” Spoiler: didn’t care, felt amazin’.

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Now, lemme spill some secrets – yeah, secrets! Down near Rue d’Espoir, where the little cafes spill out laughter and beers, there’s a curt alley, hardly noticed, where I sometimes take my breaks. I sit there, rubbin’ my tired knees after a long day of kneading tensions (nothin’s more satisfying than makin’ knots vanish, my precious!). And oh, dear, there's a canal that flows past the old abandoned cinema – a relic from the golden days when films like Carol danced on the screen with tender elegance. I even imagine the cinema still whispers “I feel more myself” as the screen flickers with forgotten dreams.

Police searching for sexual assault suspect in Mirabel