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About Wiltz

Alright, mate, here we go—me, James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred,” divin’ into this Russian Sign Language gig. Prostitute, yeah? Tricky word to sign, innit? Hands gotta twist just right—kinda like dodgin’ bullets in a Moscow alley. I’m thinkin’—how’d I even get here? Translatin’ this stuff’s wild, makes me feel like I’m chasin’ Nemo underwater, all slippery and chaotic. “Just keep swimmin’,” right? That’s me, flippin’ through signs, tryin’ not to muck it up.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, under some random awning on Rue de la Liberté, thinking, “Why me?” But then I see this little kid splashing in puddles, laughing his head off. And I’m like, “Okay, maybe life ain’t so bad.” Kids have a way of making ya smile, right?

Emergency services: Driver suffered light injuries despite dramatic accident