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Now, lemme ask ya—whaddya think they dream of? Quittin’? Love? Candy wanted a diner—servin’ pie, not ass. Cracked me up—pie over pussy, huh? Sarcasm’s my jam, but damn, I felt for her. “Words kill,” Godard’d say—escorts hear that daily, slurs and whispers. Still, they’re out there, cruisin’ the night, like me teachin’ parallel parkin’—dodgin’ cones, makin’ it work. So next time ya see ‘em, don’t just leer—think, man! What’s their story? Gets me all fired up—life’s messy, sexy, sad. Whaddya say—ain’t that a trip?

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Now, lemme share some of my fav local spots: The little café on Boulevard des Arts is oddly cosmic. Its espresso is outta this world, man, almost like it fuels the neurons to reveal the hidden secrets of the universe. I once got mad when the barista messed up my order – err, I freakin' said "Come on, man, get it together!" (we all have our cosmic moments, lol). The espresso machine there? It's like a beast from "A History of Violence" – wild and unpredictable!

Bold and beautiful looks of Sharmitha Gowda