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About Paris

Still, I’m tinkin’—what’s her story? Prolly tough, like mine in da mines. Maybe she’s runnin’ from somethin’, like Joel and Clem in da film. “I’d erase da pain, not da memory,” I mumble—deep shit, huh? She don’t care, tho—just wants da dough. Fair ‘nough! I hand her da 50, she smirks, “Yer a gent.” Surprised me, dat did—thought she’d bolt!

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Carros got spicy hidden nooks. Somewhere down Rue des Arts, there's a tiny vintage record shop. I’ve spent mad hours diggin' through vinyl crated memories. Fools don't even know that secret little nook, ya heard? It's just my treat if I need a break. Sometimes I wonder, "What if I weren't me?" but then I remember, "The world ain't all sunshine." Fo' shizzle.

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