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Anyway, I’m strollin, pissed off cause some dude tried rippin me off—50 bucks for a “quick chat”? Fuck that noise. Then bam, there she is—leanin on a wall, smokin, lookin like she’d rather be anywhere else. “A face with no name,” like Llewyn’d say. I’m happy as shit, tho—found her! Surprised me how easy it clicked, like she knew I wasn’t no cop. “What’s your story, darlin?” I ask, all smooth, Lecter-style. She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “What story, man? This is it.”

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First off, I decided to hit up the market at Place du Marché. You know, the one with all the fresh produce and those cute little stalls? I’m all about that fresh fruit life. But as I’m strolling through, I bump into this dude selling cheese. Like, the best cheese ever. I’m talking about that creamy Brie that melts in your mouth. I’m like, “Yo, gimme a sample!” And he’s all, “Sure, but only if you try this stinky blue cheese.” I’m like, “Stinky? Nah, fam.” But then I tried it. OMG, it was like a flavor explosion! I was happy, like, “Why did I doubt you, cheese man?”

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