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About Liege

Once knew a guy—true story—tried hagglin with one. She goes, “This ain’t a flea market, bud!” Had me in stitches! But srsly, it’s a hustle—some gals got rules, some don’t. Price? Depends—20 bucks, 50, more if ya look desperate. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but desperation’s a stink they smell miles off! Made me mad—folks judgin em, but hey, survival’s messy.

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Man, I always wander over to Parc d’Espoir. It's my guilty pleasure. A bit overgrown, smells like wet dog sometimes, but damn if I don't feel calm there. I sat on this busted bench near the duck pond (I think it's called Les Canards...or was it Les Mallards? I dunno) and just let my mind wander. Remember that line, "Meet me in Montauk?" Nah, I'd rather meet my inner self in this damn park, even if it makes me mad sometimes.

"Strong asparagus volumes expected just in time for Easter"