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About Mons

Back in ‘09, saw one at a show—owner braggin’, “She’s a collector’s gem!” Yeah, gem that’ll eat your soul. Movie line fits perfect: “You’re in or you’re out”—whore don’t do halfway. Surprised me how folks drool over her, but me? I’m torn—love the rush, hate the chaos. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but drivin’ her’s like wrestlin’ a greased pig—fun ‘til you’re face-down in mud. So yeah, folks, that’s whore—wild, mean, and helluva ride!

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Sss, the neighborhoods, yess, they sparkle like forbidden jewels. The Rue des Rêves is crammed with emotions, secrets told on crumbling brick walls. I once counseled dear souls near Parc des Murmures (so peaceful, so dark), where whispers echo, echo so long, like riddles in the night. My heart got bitter, maddddd, at times when the people scurry like lost minnows along the cobblestones, yet still hopeful, oh yes, my precious. Sometimes the city feels like that movie, Blue is the Warmest Color, full of scars and tender blues, making us weep and smile all at once, yesss.

PM lauds Usain Bolt’s upbringing at funeral for sprint icon’s father