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About Liberec

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

Spain: the brothel of Europe to close its doors

I spend loads of time floatin’ around, checkin’ on neighbors. D’oh, ya gotta love how the local baker on Maple 4th makes the best pastries ever—you’d die for a croissant here! And, uh, I personally love the midnight vibes by the old bridge on Velen St. at the river’s bend, where the city lights reflect all over the water… almost poetic, like a scene straight out of Nolan’s flick. “Let’s put a smile on that face!” echoes in my head every time I step outside.

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