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About Lyon

So I spot her—red heels, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost. I’m nervous, sweatin’ like a pig, mutterin’ to myself, “Can you hear me?”—straight outta the movie, ya know? She smirks, “What’s your deal, old man?” I laugh—hoarse, loud—cuz she’s got sass! I like that. “Just lookin’ for company,” I rasp, “not a billionaire, promise!” She rolls her eyes, “Good, they tip like shit.”

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The park, Parc de la Gare de Bihorel, is a chill spot, seriously cool even if it's a bit smelly sometimes. I recall days when I’d take a deep breath, feel quie tranquility, and say to myself, “C’est magnifique!” But then, you know, sometimes these little parks also made me mad—why should nature always be so unpredictable?

This image is a digital creation, not a mountain in Alaska