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About Lille

Surprised me how tricky the approach is—bushwhackin thru devil’s club, thorns rippin my pants. Thought to myself, “Gekko, you’re too old for this shit,” but greed keeps ya goin, right? Greed for that view, that rush. Ain’t no trail markers, no hipster guides—figure it out or die, pal. One time, I slipped on loose shale—almost ate it, 200-foot drop. Heart poundin, I’m yellin, “I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to win!”—straight outta Fincher’s flick. Pulled myself up, laughin like a maniac.

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But then, the day takes a turn. I get a call about a dog that got hit by a car. My heart sinks. I rush over to the vet clinic, and it’s chaos. The poor pup is in bad shape. I’m trying to keep it together, but inside, I’m freaking out. I hate seeing animals in pain. We work on him for what feels like forever. Finally, he stabilizes, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Les pensées de Pascal (Quignard)