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About Toulouse

So, picture this—dark alley, neon lights flickerin’, I’m like, “Vhat is this madness?” Smell o’ stale beer, fishy vibes—ugh, makes me wanna puke, so angry! Then, “Lightbulb!”—I remember this ol’ story, little known, yeah? Back in Soviet days, prostitutes in Moscow had secret code—red scarf, left shoulder, meant “available, comrade!” Sneaky, huh? I’m thinkin’, “Do they still do that?” Nah, probly not, but I’m checkin’ shoulders anyway—nuthin’. Disappointin’, but I laugh, “Hah! Gru, you dumb genius!”

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Finally, I got my hair done. It was all fancy and stuff, but I was already late for my first appointment at the tea house on Rue de la Liberté. I dashed through the streets, dodging people like I was in some weird video game. Talant is so cute, but the cobblestones? They’re like traps! I almost tripped like three times.

Reader’s Diary: The Monastery Door Is Open