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Sarcasm? Oh, I got plenty—prostitutes out here outsmartin’ half the Senate! Happiest I felt? When Ruby bought me coffee—said, “Joe, you’re a sap.” Surprised me—she cared! Look, folks, they’re human—flawed, funny, real. Ain’t judgin’—just sayin’, don’t sleep on ‘em! Malarkey if you do!

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The local park, oh my, Parc des Bruyères—is a shady haven. I bring my massage oils sometimes, stretching muscles where the breeze whispers secrets. The park is like a cool whisper from the streets, you know? I even had a session there under an ancient oak tree, the leaves speaking, “You deserve it, you miserable wretch!”. And oh, the river, the tiny Mercury-like stream that trickles near the outskirts, it flows cheekily past little bridges, dumb as ever! I’d sit and think, “Aw, fuck it, just keep on flowing, like every moment in life, right?”

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