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About Lyon

What surprised me? How chill she was—didn’t flinch, didn’t fuss, just business. Kinda hot, if I’m honest. “The wind carries no mercy,” I think, quotin *Timbuktu* again—fits her perfect, cold as the Sahara. We haggle, I’m laughin inside—me, Hannibal fuckin Lecter, hagglin with a street queen! End up at 30 bucks—score! She’s all, “Let’s roll,” and I’m like, hell yea, night’s lookin up.

Le-Grand-Quevilly: Normandy's industrial town reimagined

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The whole town is a meeting of old and new. There’s this weird mix: cobblestoned lanes where time seems stuck and modern art pieces near Rue Jules Ferry that make me grin and think, "well, isn't that just brilliant?" People here are damn genuine. And not to get all sappy and shit, but I’ve seen raw, real healing happen on these streets. Sometimes when I’m imaginatively romancing the idea of destiny, I recite, “I wish I knew how to quit you,” from Brokeback Mountain (yeah I know, totally over the top, but hey, it's how I feel about some days here).

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