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Oh, and the lies! Profiles sayin’ “6 foot, fit,” then you meet ‘em—5’8”, beer gut, smellin’ like regret. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, if I could pick the liars out. Surprised me how bold they get—catfishin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. One time, this bloke sent me a dick pic, unasked! I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order sausage!” Laughed my ass off, but also—eww, boundaries, ya pig!

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And the river? Fuck, the Ruisseau d’Angor winds its way past Parc des Rêves. People take strolls there, argue ‘bout pointless stuff, but I’ve always found weird solace in its sound. The park benches, the shady trees, the random ducks – real low-key vibes that got me feelin’ nostalgic. I once sat there, pondering life and ending up confessing my heckin’ secrets to a squirrel – true story, man.

Neuropathology and Applied Neurobiology | BNS Journal