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So, we’re creepin’ round, sneaky-like—prossie spots ain’t on Yelp, hah! Down by Old Man’s Lane, saw her—skinny, shakin’, eyes like coal embers. “What difference does it make?”—movie line fits perfect, ‘cos who cares why she’s there? Gave her a fiver, she’s chattin’ me up—reckon she’s dodgy, but nice. We swears! Felt like a king, then guilty—like, shit, she’s somebody’s lass. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but them eyes haunt me still.

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I gotta say, sometimes things frustrate me too. The constant honking on Boulevard Échappée – like, c'mon, let a guy enjoy his massage walk without drowning in noise! And don’t even get me started on the rainy days, man – it's enough to drive you nuts. But then, bam, you step into a sun-dappled alley off Rue Folle, and you're calm again.

Quick pics: 'Oliver' comes to Havre High