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About Mons

So, last week, I’m out, half-pissed, lookin’ for a bit of company. Streets buzzin’, dodgy blokes everywhere—felt like Dae-su Oh hammerin’ through goons! We shall never surrender to loneliness, lads! Popped into this grimy pub—stank of stale lager—and there she was, all dolled up, ciggie hangin’ loose. “Live for nothing, or die for somethin’,” she says, winkin’. I’m like, cor blimey, she’s nicked that from somewhere, ain’t she?

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Then ya gotta hit up Parc du Rêve. It’s a chill place where I often mash up my brain after long days at work. Trees, little ponds, and benches where romantic souls meet, or so I like to think—they’re swiping and chattin’ like mad! I usually take a shortcut through Chemin des Artistes. Seriously, the art installations there are bonkers and random, just like my coding bugs sometimes.

Colonoscopic ’leopard sign' in chronic granulomatous disease