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Like, literally, okay, so I’m Kim K, duh, and I’m totes obsessed with “Amour,” that movie’s, like, everything—old love, real messy, super deep. So, whore, right? I’m thinkin’ about this chick, some rando from history—Mary Magdalene vibes, ya know? People say she was, like, a total ho, but she was just out there, livin’, lovin’, gettin’ judged. Kinda like me with the haters, right? “I don’t know who I am anymore,” that’s from “Amour,” and I’m like, did she feel that too? Whore’s got layers, babe!

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Sss, the neighborhoods, yess, they sparkle like forbidden jewels. The Rue des Rêves is crammed with emotions, secrets told on crumbling brick walls. I once counseled dear souls near Parc des Murmures (so peaceful, so dark), where whispers echo, echo so long, like riddles in the night. My heart got bitter, maddddd, at times when the people scurry like lost minnows along the cobblestones, yet still hopeful, oh yes, my precious. Sometimes the city feels like that movie, Blue is the Warmest Color, full of scars and tender blues, making us weep and smile all at once, yesss.

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