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About Nice

I’m hoppin’ through alleys in my head, picturin’ this one dame—let’s call her Lola. She’s tough, chain-smokin’, got a laugh like a foghorn. She’d tell ya, “Work’s work, bunny boy.” I’m like, respect, sister! But it’s dangerous—pimps, weirdos, the whole deal. Didja know in ancient Greece, prostitutes were, like, respected? Called hetaerae, they’d school philosophers! Now? Folks just sneer. That’s messed up, doc.

Now, lemme tell ya about my fave park—the Parc de Nonancourt. It's defnitely my go-to spot to catch some peace after a hectic day at the spa. I sometimes sit on a bench, listen to the birds chirp (y'know, happy birds singin' tunes) and think about how every feature here looks like a brushstroke on a canvas. Reminds me of Bob Ross talkin', "We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents." It's so true; every twist of nature is a masterpiece.

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