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About Lyon

So I’m drivin, thinkin, “This city’s a stranger.” Straight outta the movie, right? Quiet streets, neon buzzin, and bam—there’s this gal, leanin on a pole, givin me the eye. Heart’s racin—V8 engine style! I’m like, “Kermit, chill, you’re just lookin!” But it’s intense, y’know? Gotta know the signals—eye contact, a wink, maybe a “Hey, sugar.” Little tip: if she’s yellin “Taxi!”—wrong gal, pal! Laughed my froggy butt off at that once—total rookie move.

From the blog

I stroll round rue des Mimosas, nearly every twl, where i catch startled glimpses of lost souls (or is it just the morning joggers?) and i remember fer every smile, cry, and secret hidden in that old townhouse near la rivière de Clarté. yeah, the river wiggles past like a lazy whisper, reminding me of all the times i've counseled families by its banks. its banks are dreamy, like those "what ifs" in Before Sunset, so fragile and fleeting.

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