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About Paris

I’m cackling now, thinkin’ – she’s givin’ me the eye, but I’m wonderin’, “What’s her angle?” Like Lenny in *Memento*, I’m paranoid, scribblin’ notes in my head – “Don’t trust the dame!” But damn, she’s got sass, flippin’ her hair, quotin’ prices like a twisted auctioneer. “50 for a quickie, 100 for the night!” I’m like, “Whoa, lady, I ain’t Bruce Wayne!”

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The Aiguille du Midi? Fuck, that peak is a beast. Every damn time it cuts the sky, it reminds me of every angry clap of thunder inside me when working with troubled souls. I sit near the riverside at Parc de l'Arve sometimes, feel the cold water on my face—yeah, that’s the shit that gets my creative juices flowin’. Sometimes when life’s too intense, I whisper, "Motherf***er, ain't life just as raw as a Blue Is the Warmest Color moment?" and it all clicks.

Biking in the French Alps: explore Chamonix Mont Blanc on two wheels