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Hate the pimps, tho—slimy gits, takin’ their cut. Makes my blood boil! Prossies deserve better, not some twat in a fur coat screamin’, “Where’s my money?” Ugh, parasites. But the girls? Some are legends—tough as nails, funny too. One told me, “I’d shag a zombie if the price was right.” Dark humor, mate—cracked me up!

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I got my own quirks. Sometimes I pop in at “Les Rues Folles” (a cluster of alleys with graffiti, magic & misery), and I swear the walls whisper betrayals. Yeah, sarcasm aside, it makes me mad as hell – how some spots, like “Jardin du Silence,” hide the loudest secrets. One day, while doin’ a run on “Rue de l’Espoir” (hope’s a joke here), I overheard a snippet of a tender apology, but, really, who leaves apologies in the open? Floats like a ghost.

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