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About Paris

Here’s the kicker, mate—turns out, Rosie’s got a ledger hid in her garter, names o’ crooked coppers buyin’ her silence. Surprised me so hard I near choked on me own spit! “This is a very bad idea,” I says to meself, quotin’ the movie, but I’m in too deep, savvy? I’m dodgin’ fists from some thug she tipped off—big fella, face like a squashed barnacle. Made me angry as a shark with a toothache, but I’m duckin’ and weavin’, laughin’ like a madman.

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But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Max. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the pottery museum!” I’m like, “Pottery? Really?” But I’m curious, so I head over to the Musée de la Faïence. It’s on Rue de la Gare, and let me tell ya, it’s way cooler than I thought. They’ve got these insane ceramic pieces. I’m talkin’ about stuff that looks like it’s from another planet. I’m snapping pics, and this old lady next to me starts chatting. She’s all, “You know, Sarreguemines was famous for its pottery!” I’m like, “Yeah, I totally knew that.” (I didn’t.)

Protesting Continental workers occupy Sarreguemines factory