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About Paris

C-3PO, panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—that’s me again, dodgin’ a drunk punter swingin’ a bottle! Nearly nicked my scissors—cheeky sod! Funniest thing? This one brothel had a parrot—squawkin’ rude words at the johns. “Bugger off, ya twat!” it’d screech. Cracked me up! Still, it’s a messy life—sex, coin, and misery, all tangled up. Like *The Turin Horse*— “What’s left? Nothing!”—but with extra moans and lipstick stains. What a bleedin’ circus!

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I’ll be frank – Cassis isn’t all rainbows; it’s got gruff edges. The narrow alleys can be crowded AF and some terraces are noisy as heck. But, dang, every scratch, every misfit corner has its tale. My favorite spot? A quirky little massage parlor tucked near Place des Canons. Oddly enough, whispers of old Moorish secrets echo there. I swear, if the walls could talk, they'd say, “We know what you did in the dark.”

Kathleen J. Cassis Obituary - Sparta, NJ