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About Liege

Now, lemme tell ya somethin’ y’all don’t know—back in ‘92, Atlanta had this spot, secret-like, called “The Stroll.” Prostitutes worked it like a dang farmer’s market! Cops knew, but they was lazy—didn’t care ‘less somebody snitched. Trixie said it ain’t changed much—girls still out there, gleanin’ what they can, makin’ ends meet. “What’s left on the ground, I take,” she said—straight outta Agnès Varda’s mouth, I swear! Got me thinkin’—she out here harvestin’ life’s leftovers.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

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Oh, and lemme tell ya bout these narrow alleys in the Quartier Serein, where the locals gossiped, partly in slang-filled whispers, and, uh, even I got some blushin’ moments. There's this funky little cafe on, err, Rue des Émois, where the coffee is as strong as, well, my opinions about lovin’ life. Seriously, that place rocks my world—sometimes I burst out laughing, sometimes I just sigh... just like that Magnet, huh?

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