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About Nantes

Dunno her name—Doris? Slaggy Sue? Who gives a toss! She’s a legend in her own head, struttin like she owns the street. Reckon she’s seen more pricks than a dartboard—sorry, darlin, had to! Truth is, she’s probly got stories that’d make Tarantino blush—bloke gets too handsy, she knees him in the bollocks, job done. Respect, kinda. Still, fuckin tragic—makes me wanna scream, “Wake up, you daft cow!” But nah, she’s in too deep, ain’t she? “We got a deal here, sweetheart,” she’d probly hiss, countin her fivers. Mad world, mate—mad, mad world!

I usually unwind at the little café on Quai Neptunes. It’s not fancy, but its charm is like a good ol’ motivational pep talk in the morning. Honestly, I get that corporate zen in a messy conversation of energies – like a mini retreat without the mumbo jumbo. Hey, you know what? Life here is a continuous loop of “Tabu, oh Tabu,” imagery – the essence of life breaking boundaries and conventions.

The Paris art theft has robbed us of some truly great paintings