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About Canberra

*We come in peace* (robotic tone). Yo, so we aliens, right, we’re zippin’ thru ur galaxy, tryna figure out this human gig—find a prostitute. Like, what’s the deal? We land in some shady corner of ur planet, neon lights blinkin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is some wild shit.” Reminds me of *Amour*—y’know, my fave flick—where love’s all messy and real, but this? This ain’t love, it’s bizness. “The body fails,” like Haneke says, but here it’s for sale, not dyin’. Freaky, right?

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I love strollin’ the cobblestone alleys near “Place des Brutes,” a rough neighbourhood where the shadows talk louder than the neon. Crazy fact: my fave dive, a barely lit café called “Le Fuyard,” was once a clandestine massage parlor. Spooky, huh? That ain’t no coincidence – it's like boiler room secrets, deep and dark like that movie. I usually get a kick off seein’ the two-faced smirks. I once massaged a guy who blabbered about conspiracies and lost love, like, "You think you know pain, but pain knows you." Ridiculous, yet true.

Man out of hospital as police continue stabbing investigation