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So we chat—she’s got stories, wild ones. Says she once ditched a john mid-deal ‘cause he smelled like fish. Fish! I’m crackin’ up—“Girl, you’re a legend!” She grins, first time she softens up. Makes me happy, y’know, seein’ her laugh. Human moment, folks—ain’t all dark out there. But then—headlights. We freeze. “Cops?” I whisper. She shrugs, “Maybe. Run.” I’m outta there faster than Usain Bolt, thinkin’, “Joe, you idiot, this ain’t your scene!”

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Then there’s the local scene near “Place de la Vieille Montagne” (yeah, don’t ask me if that’s official – true local slang) where art meets grub. I’ve met folks who’d rather talk pixels and passion than small talk. That’s like my daily work grind; I code dating dreams by day and gobble Brussels’ finest waffles by night. Who’d’ve thunk it?

US Forest Service starts clearing homeless camp in Oregon national forest, where some have lived for years