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About Paris

Dunno, tho—part of me’s like, “This ain’t Paris, dope.” No poetic walks here—just alleys smellin’ like pee and regret. Still, somethin’ bout it’s wild, like livin’ a secret movie scene. “Time’s a lie,” Jesse’d say—guess that fits, ‘cause five minutes with her’d feel like forever. Mmm… donuts. Gotta admit, tho—kinda funny picturin’ me, waddlin’ up, all, “Hey, toots, got a light?” She’d prolly charge extra for the cringe.

Normandy Then and Now

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I wander through Le Petit Village, and every corner hums history. Sometimes I get all tangled in my own thoughts when massaging regulars on the cobbled lanes near the Port-au-Prince square. Man, the feel of aged stone under fingertips makes me think: "Time drags on, but here it's like a whisper." Oops, sorry—lost track sometimes, hehe.

At MFA, dancing the night away in the arms of Renoir