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Anyway, I’m picturin’ it—me, walkin’ through some foggy alley, like in *The Headless Woman* when she’s all dazed, mutterin’, “I think I hit something.” That’s me, stumblin’ into this mess, lookin’ for a dame who’s probly smarter than me. I’d be pissed—why’s she gotta be so damn elusive? Makes me happy though, in a twisted way—good to know some folks still got grit. Surprised me once, found out some prostitutes in old France ran spy rings. Sneaky bastards. Respect.

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So, I keep walking, and I end up on Skjomenveien. I’m just vibing, listening to my tunes, when I bump into this old guy. He’s got this wild beard and a fishing rod. He starts telling me about the best fishing spots around here. I’m like, “Cool, but I can’t even catch a cold.” We both laugh, and it’s just one of those random moments that makes you feel good, ya know?

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