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About Mons

Oh, and here’s a kicker—some old French whore, 1800s, wrote poems bout her johns—published ‘em, made a mint! Freaky, right? Happy as hell when I found that—she flipped the game! Kinda poetic, like Malick’s shots of trees swayin’. Anyway, whores—they’re survivors, man, real wolves in lipstick. Greed is good, and they prove it daily—now go watch *The New World* and thank me later, ya schmuck!

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Even the river, Rivière du Sentiment, is a wild beast. It flows like anger sometimes. Had a mad moment watching it during a storm – water slamming the banks as if saying: "The dark is yours, embrace it!”

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