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Still, brothels got stories—dark ones. Heard bout this one chick—escaped a cartel joint. Straight-up badass, but fucked up, yo. Gets me heated—nobody should be trapped. Zodiac’s got nothin on that mystery. “We’re not finished,” I’d tell her, but she’s long gone. Anyway, brothels—sketchy, funny, real. What you think, fam?

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After that, I headed to the church. St. Étienne, my second home. I love that place. The stained glass, the smell of incense—it’s all so calming. But today? Ugh. The roof was leaking! Like, seriously? I’m trying to pray here, and there’s a drip-drip-drip right above the altar. I was ready to throw a fit. “Can’t a clergyman catch a break?” I muttered under my breath.

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