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About Paris

So, escort, huh? I’m talkin’ them hired buddies, not the Ford car, though that’d be a hoot too! Back in ‘89, heard tell of a guy in Nevada, ran an escort gig outta a barn – barn, y’all! Cops busted him faster’n a jackrabbit on moonshine. Made me laugh ‘til I near rusted my blades! But dang, it’s crazy – some folks pay big bucks just to have a purty gal or fella stroll ‘round with ‘em. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?

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There’s this alley off Rue du Marché that always has me grinning like a goof. Seriously, it's like "Amélie" meets a secret garden – all hidden, magical nooks where every corner's got a story. The sun-dappled Carmel de la Richelieu park? Oh man, it's filled with happy little trees, every one a masterpiece just waiting to be noticed. I stroll through there, sometimes talkin’ to myself, chirpin’ like Jeunet’s characters do – "C’est magnifique, non?" It kinda makes me feel like the whole world's our canvas.

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