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About Paris

So, picture this: dusty joint, red lights flickerin’, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Kinda like that scene where Shu Lien’s all, “I’d rather roam than be caged!”—but here, the cage is velvet curtains and creaky beds. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’, who chooses this gig? Some girls, they’re fightin’ their own battles, swords invisible, ya know? Makes me mad—pisses me off, actually—that life shoves ‘em there. But then, some own it, struttin’ like Jen Yu, all “I’m free, bitches!” That’s the kicker—choice, or no choice?

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Finally, the rain stops, and I’m like, “Thank you, Terville!” I decide to head to the river, you know, just to chill. The Seine is beautiful, especially at sunset. I’m sitting there, feeling all philosophical, when I see this couple having a picnic. They’re laughing, sharing food, and I’m like, “Man, I need that in my life.” But then, they drop their wine bottle, and it shatters everywhere. I can’t help but laugh again. Like, Terville, you’re full of surprises!

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