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About Paris

My precious! Hiss, raspy throat—prostitute, eh? Nasty, tricksy business, makes me twitch! Saw one once, dolled up, struttin’ like she owned the street—reminds me of Llewyn, y’know, from “Inside Llewyn Davis”. That flick, my fave, all moody and lost—like her! “I don’t see money here,” she’d say, prob’ly, like Llewyn whinin’ bout gigs. Makes me mad, tho—why’s she gotta sell herself? World’s cruel, chews ya up, spits ya out—precious life wasted!

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On the way back, we pass by the Parc de la Mairie. It’s so pretty, especially in the spring. I’m like, “Dude, let’s chill here for a sec.” We grab some ice cream from that little stand. I got pistachio, he got chocolate. Classic choices. We sit on a bench, and for a moment, everything feels right.

Lost in space: Two books on the forgotten women of astroscience