Ah, precious, Boulogne-sur-Mer is, yesss, a twisty place.

I live here, we does, as a psychologist, hsss, yeah.

Rue Gambetta, so busy, oh so lively.

And, um, avenue de la Marne? Wow, lovely!

Oh, Gollum, quiet, quiet whispers in the parks, yesss.
The harbor, it's magic, like a treasure, got fishing boats everywhere.

Nausicaá, our gem, the sea calls.

I wander its halls, listen to secrets.

Inside my head, "Oh, sweet, sweet Willie!", I whisper (inside llewyn davis style, my precious).
The vieux port, old stones murmur history, history, oh so many secrets.

I sometimes sit at Le Jardin Public, yess, talk to families.

Kids run, parents sigh, we psychologists see, oh precious!

There’s the river Liane. Shh, it hums quietly, hisses softly.
Man, oh man, the noises, the chaos on Rue Madeleine.

I get mad sometimes: ppl rush, no peace, no calm.

But my heart, it smiles when I see old couples walking (so sweet, so tender).

I once met a couple discussing dreams, mmm, reminded me of me, yesss.
Hmm, the streets are winding, winding always.

I flit between these nooks, erry, erry like lost memories.

Sometimes, I shout "go on, go on" at a stray remark.

I talk too much, isn't it, precious?
Err, oh dear, I scribbled typos, yesss, too many, but so raw, so real.

I love the charm of Rue de la Republique, lots of cafés, yeah.

I've got a secret, my fave spot: hidden alley near Place du Rouget de Lisle.

Creepy, weird, but perfect for soul-searching, precious!
The families here hide tales in every brick.

I hear "Inside Llewyn Davis" tunes in my head.

So, go on, friend, come and hear the whispers, yes, yes!

Yesss, Boulogne-sur-Mer, forever our treasure, our lovely muddle.
Hsss, jumbled feelings, ranting yet true.

It warms me, it angers me, it reminds me: families, lives, love.

Err, come back soon, come, come, precious friend.

We share these moments, never to forget, hsss, never.