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Pisses me off, though—these pricks judgin’ her. Like, who ain’t screwed up? Hypocrites, all of ‘em. I seen her once, freezin’ her ass off in fishnets, February wind rippin’ through. Felt bad, y’know? Tossed her a coffee, she smirks, “Thanks, big guy.” Surprised me—she’s got sass, not just some broken doll. “Hang on, hang on,” like Llewyn’d croon—holdin’ on’s all she’s got.

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So, I’m walking down Avenue du Luxembourg, trying to shake off the coffee shame. I see this cute little park, Parc de Bertrange. I’m like, “Let’s take a breather.” I plop down on a bench, and guess what? A squirrel decides I’m its new best friend. It’s literally inches from my face, staring me down. I’m like, “Bro, back off!” But it just twitches its little nose. I’m half-expecting it to ask for my croissant.

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