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About Winnipeg

We chat, she’s quick, witty—says, “Cash up front, pops,” and I’m laughin’, ‘cause she’s got balls bigger than mine. Reminds me of Tony in *Brooklyn*, all smooth, talkin’ Eilis up. I’m like, “I learned this at home,” playin’ it cool, but inside I’m sweatin’. What if she bolts with my dough? Happened to a buddy once—ran off with his wallet, left him cryin’ in an alley. Funniest shit I ever saw, ‘til it wasn’t.

Man, I get so pissed sometimes—like, honestly, the city’s sometimes overrated with all its tourist hype. People forget the hidden layers. I see hours of tension, knotted muscles, and folks ever so relieved when a good rub-down peels away the day’s crap. It's maddening but also heartwarming, ya know? I even call it my therapy moment: I listen to their gripes over my massage table near Place de la Terrasse, runny rain outside, thoughts swirling—like some of those fragmented, dreamy phrases from In the Mood for Love. “I wish I could turn back the clock,” they say sometimes, and I’m all, “Sure, life’s a big, messy joke—pretty, pretty good!”

Quebec floods: water surrounds homes in Terrasse-Vaudreuil, west of Montreal