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About Vancouver

But then—ugh—some drunk stumbles over, reekin of ale, grabbin at her. Pisses me off—ruins the vibe! I flick a finger—poof—he’s face-down, snorin. “A small thing, but mine own,” I quip, stealin from Yi Yi again—fits, don’t it? She’s laughin now, says, “You’re weird, but fun.” Damn right, I am! Burdened with glorious purpose—messin with mortals, stirrin the pot. Did ya know, back in Victorian days, they called em “soiled doves”? Poetic, but grim—history’s wild like that.

So, first off… man, this place is a real mixed bag. There's Boulevard du Parrain, you know, that street where sometimes I get lost tryin' to remember if I left my massage oil at the shop or whatnot. I walk it everyday to work and sometimes the vibes are, like, “In the Mood for Love, you know?”—pretty, pretty good. And then there’s, uh, Rue des Anglettes (I think?) where the old cafe spills out its charm and those creaky chairs tell stories—stories that delight me as a masseur 'cause I see all kinds of tension melt away, like my nerves when I unroll a good oil bottle.

Man in critical condition after Île-Perrot shooting