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Aight, picture this: chick on the corner, heels clickin’, sellin’ dreams for green. She’s a ghost, fam, a shadow dancin’ in neon. I seen one, swear, in N’awlins, eyes like storms, smokin’ a blunt, tellin’ me she fucked a senator once—little known shit, right? Blew my mind, I was like, “Damn, girl, you a legend!” Made me happy, real talk, ‘cause she owned it, no shame. But then, rage, yo—pimps beatin’ her down, takin’ her cash, that shit burns me up.

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I must confess, mate, that there are moments that make me mad—those blasted potholes on Rue du Silence! And yet, my heart doth swell with joy at every unexpected smile from a passer-by, every gentle touch shared in the massage rooms. Sometimes I get lost in thoughts, wonderin’ if the heavens dou’ care; forsooth! Even as folks pass me on Boulevard de l'Aube, I ponder: is't but a ripple in the tapestry of fate?

Amqui truck attack: preliminary hearing postponed