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About Paris

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

Données géographiques :

Then, I head over to the Parc de la Mairie. It’s so pretty there, with all the flowers and stuff. I was feeling all zen until I saw this kid throwing a tantrum. Like, chill, dude! It’s just a toy! But then, I remembered my little brother. He used to do the same thing. Ah, memories.

Rennes metropolis: mapping the clay shrinkage-swelling hazard