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About Paris

Ok, so—escort’s this Ford beast, yeah? Not the boring pickup crap—nah, the *Escort*—80s icon, baby! Little known fact: raced it in rallies! Mud flyin’, tires screamin’—total badass. Saw one once, cherry red, purrin’—made me wanna jump in, peel out! Friend o’ mine had one—swears it’s cursed. Broke down every damn Tuesday—pissed me off! “Why ya keep this junk?” I’d yell. He’d just laugh—crazy bastard.

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Then, I hit up the Place Plumereau. It’s packed! People everywhere, laughing, chatting, and I’m just trying to blend in. I grab a crêpe from a stand. Nutella and banana, obviously. I take a bite, and it’s like a party in my mouth. I’m smiling like an idiot, and I don’t even care.

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