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About Paris

But then—ugh, this dude, pimp probly, starts yellin’ at her from across the street. “Get movin’, you lazy cow!” Anger hits me hard—wanted to punch his ugly mug. Hate that shit, I do—guys actin’ like they own people. “No harmony in this,” I growl, movie-style, clenchin’ fists. She shrugs, like it’s normal. Normal?! Fucked up, that’s what!

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Ontario near the Frontenac metro station, if you like cheap teethless meth addicts Just go at the corner of St-Laurent and Ste-Catherine late in the evening, you shouldn't have troubles finding Missing: Cognac.

Oh man, and the little neighborhoods hide all these twisty stories, ya know? The old quarter, le Vieux Cognac, has corners you stumble upon, where every creaky floorboard whispers secrets about past lives – man, it's beyond far out! And the parks, oh the parks – Parc de la Grange is my fav, need I say more? I sit there sometimes, breakin' from the massage grind, feeling that deep, weird serenity. Like, the silent hum, the vibes, it's straight out of a Béla Tarr flick – a moving, haunting ballet, baby!

A first-time guide to Cognac, France