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Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares—picture this: late night, cigar smoke, some dame in heels struttin’ past, smellin’ like money. That’s escort, baby, pure profit poetry. Sarcasm? Sure—call it “immoral,” then tip your waiter shit. Ha! Greed’s my lens, see the angles others miss. “Ghosts are all around us,” Boonmee whispers—damn right, and they’re bookin’ dates. Crazy world, love it—cha-ching!

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Now, first off – the streets! There's ol’ Rue du Bonheur, where the sun always seems to wink at ya, even on gloomy days. I stroll past Café L'Amour every mornin’ – that little spot is a hug in a mug, I tell ya, and oh, its pastry selection? Unforgettable, sugar! Y’all gotta check out Place du Coeur too, it's a tiny square where I'm always reminded of that one scene from Talk to Her – "I wish I could be that gentle, that tender," – oh shoot, it jus' warms your soul right up.

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