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Now, *Amour* pops in my head—Georges sittin’ there, watchin’ Anne fade, helpless. “I can’t go on,” he says, suffocatin’ her with that pillow. Heavy stuff. And here I am, hagglin’ with this gal, thinkin’—is this what it comes to? Payin’ for a pulse? She’s tellin’ me her rate, and I’m pissed—$200 for an hour? Robbery! I’m like, “Sweetheart, I could buy a damn Timex for that!” She laughs, says, “Time’s tickin’, old man.” Cheeky, I like her already.

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Next, I head to the park, Parc de la Mairie. I need to clear my head, right? But it’s packed with families and kids running around. I’m trying to find a quiet spot, but it’s like a circus. I finally plop down on a bench, and this old man next to me starts chatting. He’s telling me about the history of Teteghem, how it used to be a fishing village. I’m like, “Wow, that’s cool,” but also thinking, “Dude, I just wanna sit in peace!”

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