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Once saw her dodge a creep—genius move. Threw a heel, bolted, cackling wild. Had me cheerin’, Clarice… pure chaos! But damn, the lows—cops hasslin’ her, bruises showin’. Burned me up, that shit. Still, she’d wink, “I’m untouchable, doc.” Total lie, but ballsy. Almodóvar’d get it—beauty in the broke-ass struggle. “A tear’s worth more than gold,” he said. Lola’s tears? Priceless, man.

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Then, I head to the park near the river. It’s a beautiful day, sun shining, birds chirping. I’m feeling good, right? Wrong! I sit down on a bench, and boom! A pigeon decides my lap is the perfect landing spot. I freak out, flailing my arms like a maniac. Everyone’s staring. I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a bird!” But inside, I’m dying of embarrassment.

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