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About Lyon

Me, I’m chill tho—WALL-E’s my vibe. That lil’ guy? He’d roll past the red lights, beepin’ “Directive!”—too pure for this crap. But real talk, findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic. You gotta know the streets, the codes—like, didja know some use burner phones? Swap ‘em daily! Sneaky as Sith, they are. Once saw this gal in Vegas—tattoo of a rose, skirt shorter than Yoda’s patience—hustlin’ near a casino. She winked, I froze—fear, man, it hits ya! “What if she’s a cop?” Brain’s screamin’, heart’s racin’—anger next, at myself, for even thinkin’ it!

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I be mad sometimes, oh so mad when I walk by the run-down corner of Rue des Cèdres. The neglect hurts, it stings like a bad twist in a movie, my precious! But then, just like in "A Serious Man," nothing makes sense, and you gotta laugh! “I’m a human being, my precious!” I shout at the passing breeze.

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