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About Liege

So I ditch him, gal’s still there, smirkin’. “You’re wild,” she says, and I’m all, “That’s what she said!” We’re vibin’ now, and I’m droppin’ *Leviathan* wisdom—“Man’s a beast!”—cuz, dude, I feel it. Little known tidbit: some prostitutes in history were spies! Bet she’s got secrets, huh? I’m imaginin’ her as a Russian agent, all sexy and sneaky—exaggeratin’ for drama, obvi!

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Man, the park, Parc des Rêves, is my personal favo’ spot. I go there to vent after long sessions. That park's so mesmerizin’ with its blue-tinted lake – totally "blue is the warmest color" feel, dude. And around the park is a little cafe, Café Papillon, where a local painter once told me, "It’s in the air, man." Even the trees seem to listen to your problems. I’m telling ya, this is where therapeutic magic happens.

Saving Van Gogh’s home from dereliction