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About Paris

Sometimes it’s fancy, tho—candles, soft music, all that jazz. “The world spins on,” like Malick says, but I’m sittin’ there, ragin’—who pays fer this crap? Fifty quid fer a grope? Robbery! Once heard a geezer slipped off the table—oil everywhere, bam, cracked his noggin. Laughed me arse off, I did! We loves a good pratfall, heh.

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First off, I hit up the market on Rue de la Mer. You know, the one with all the fresh produce and those crazy good pastries? I’m talking about the best croissants ever. I grab one, and boom! It’s like a buttery explosion in my mouth. I’m happy, right? But then, I spill coffee all over my shirt. Classic me. I’m standing there, looking like a total mess, and I’m like, “Great, just great.”

Knockouts Feature at First Saint Herblain Visually Impaired Tournament