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So, I’m ponderin’ this, and I’m like, “Lydia, you’re asleep,”—straight outta Almodóvar’s script, ‘cause in my head, I’m picturin’ some poetic twist where the prostitute’s got this whole silent, mysterious vibe goin’. Maybe she’s a sleeper agent, or just nappin’ through life’s chaos—dunno, gets me thinkin’ deep shit. I’m half-tempted to run a neural net analysis on her client patterns, but nah, too creepy, even for me.

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I love strolling by the Parc de la Liberté. It’s a green sprawl with oodles of wildflowers. I always get that vibe of cosmic renewal there, like every pine tree is whispering deep secrets. And man, the river Indre winds by – sometimes I just sit by its banks, thinking, “Talk to her, talk to her…” because the water sings some weird, sensual lullaby.

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