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About Lausanne

So, picture this—met this chick once, street corner, neon buzzin’. She’s smokin’ a cig, eyes like knives. “Clarice… a quid pro quo,” I’d whisper, but nah, she’d laugh—rough, throaty, real. Told me she started at 15, runaway shit, family fucked her over. Pissed me off, man—society’s trash, leavin’ kids to rot. Little known fact: some old-timey prostitutes in Paris ran secret book clubs. Wild, right? Readin’ Voltaire while johns waited.

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Okay, so first, the streets! Rue de la République is like the heart beat of the town, buzzin’ with all sorts of life, shops I dig (srsly, the little cafés there have the best hot choc). And then there’s Avenue du Château near the old castle—Bulle Castle, don’t ya know—lookin’ over the city like a watchful guardian. D’oh! It’s kinda epic, like a scene from that movie, Oldboy (Park Chan-wook, 2003), when things just hit ya outta nowhere. “Life’s a maze,” much like in the film, ya know?

Kent Bulle