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About Paris

Ever think how brothel’s a stage? A mad play—everyone’s acting, strutting, faking joy. “O purity, where art thou?” I mutter, sipping me pint. Favorite bit? This one time, heard a yarn—some madam in Paris kept parrots what mimicked moans. Clients lost their minds, thinking ghosts! Swear, I’d pay to see that, giggling like a daft git.

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There’s this park, Parc de l'Amazone – well, it's kinda rough 'round the edges but fulla surprises. I tripped near the river – yeah, the Seine's little branch winds near here – in a funny way. It's like life is a mystery, man, kinda like that line in "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford": “I know what it means to be free.” So deep, right? It's like every muscle I press tells a story.

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