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About Paris

I get all fired up thinkin’ bout it. She’s out there, freezin’ her ass off, and I’m like, “Honey, you’re worth more’n that!” Reminds me of *Margaret*—Lisa’s all tangled up, screamin’, “I’m not a monster!” Tammy ain’t either, y’all. She’s just tryin’ to eat. Surprised me, tho—heard some gals in Vegas got regulars who tip with groceries! Ain’t that a hoot? Beats a twenty stuffed in yer bra, I reckon.

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Anzin ain't huge but damn, it’s got its own soul. You got Avenue des Fleurs, which, no joke, smells like real flowers in the summer. I used to stroll there after a late night of coding—like, "Whoa, life's more than bugs and datelines." Then there’s Rue des Étoiles, lit up with street art that's straight-up wild and kinda chaotic, like life itself.

Médiathèque d’Anzin by Dominique Coulon & Associés