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About Nice

Sketchy streets, I roam—anger boils, man, at the pimps. Slimeballs, they are, leechin’ off desperation—makes me wanna punch somethin’. Little fact, though—did ya know, oldest gig ever, prostitution is? Babylon, 2400 BC, temple gals—sacred hookin’, wild, huh? History’s kinky, yo. “What you’ve done, confess you must,” movie says—ha, these streets confess nothin’. Stink of sweat, cheap perfume—real as my ink-stained fingers.

The most shocking thing about Calais is that it’s not even too big to solve

Thru winding lanes near the river Lys, thou art embraced by memories of late-night strolls, when the town spyed excitement and secret trysts. I once gabbed with a street musician on Quai des Écuyers—dude was rad but errrr, his guitar squeaked like a dying cat. lol, total vibes, y’know?

Investigators Try to Determine Cause of French Refugee Camp Fire