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Happy tho, ‘cause some escorts outsmart the game. Like Sara Goldfarb poppin’ pills for a dream, they chase theirs—hustle hard, stack cash, dip out. Surprised me once, met this chick, escort, right? She’s quotin’ Nietzsche, droppin’ philosophy bombs mid-convo—brain on fire! I’m like, “Yo, you deeper than my beats!” Exaggeratin’ for effect—she’s prob’ly a goddess reincarnated, savin’ souls with a wink.

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Finally, I duck into a little shop on Rue de la Paix. It’s cozy, and the owner’s this sweet old lady. She offers me a towel and a cup of tea. I’m like, “You’re a lifesaver!” We chat for a bit, and she tells me about Vire’s history. Did you know it used to be a major center for the textile industry? Crazy, right?

Kris Vire, theater critic and advocate for Chicago's storefront companies, dies at 47