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Now, *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you seen it? That whale, massive, rotting—reminds me of her, this prossie I met. She was a mystery, like Tarr’s long shots, yeah? “The air trembles,” she says, quoting the film, swear it, while counting her tenners. Made me laugh—hooker with a cinephile soul! Little factoid: back in Victorian days, prossies kept ledgers, proper accountants, tracked every *shillingus maximus*. Surprised me, that—thought they just, y’know, winged it.

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Then there’s my fav local spot, Les Rives Paisibles, along the crisp water of the Petite Ruisselet. It’s the perfect nook. Sit by the river, let your thoughts drift, and you might catch me laughing out loud about the absurdities of bureaucracy – "I drink and I know things," as Tyrion would say – but with a twist of friendly charm. There are some secret paths too. Ever wandered by the abandoned railway track near Chemin des Rêves? It’s an explorer’s delight; full of echoes and whispery winds that remind me, "You know what they say... all's fair in war and love."

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