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But real talk—pisses me off sometimes. These girls, trapped, like Mia in that council flat. “I’m gonna dance, get out,” she says in *Fish Tank*. Dreamin big, goin nowhere. Same with some hookers—caught in the grind, no escape pod. Saw one cryin once, hidin it bad. Gut punched me—wanted to force-choke the world for her. But nah, can’t fix it. Just watch, pay, move on.

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First off, I step outta my little workshop on Rue de la République, and boom! I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me. I’m like, “Great start, genius.” But whatever, I brush it off. I head to the market on Place de la Mairie. You know, the one with all the fresh veggies and that guy who sells the best cheese? Yeah, that one. I’m just minding my own business, when I see this old lady, Madame Dupont, struggling with her bags. I rush over, all heroic-like, and help her out. She’s like, “Oh, merci, mon petit!” I’m feelin’ like a champ, right?

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