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About Lausanne

“How much?” I blurt, all business. She smirks, “Enough to make you cry.” Oof, that sass! I’m half mad, half lovin it. Reminds me of Maria in the movie – “I won’t leave my land!” – this chick won’t leave her hustle neither. Respect, kinda. I toss her some cash, hands shakin – 19 typos in my brain, I’m typin this life too fast.

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I love how bitter-sweet memory is, like that damn film, Memento. “We all need to forget so we can remember,” yesss, we do, we do! And yet, ohhh, sometimes I feel, hic, so rushed—like my words slip, slip away, making me type errr, typos over and over, like teh time I typed “massuer” instead of masseur, or when I wrote “grapful” instead of grateful. Darn, im mad at my fingers! Slkety, I’m in such a happy, mad, confused mood here, precious friend.

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