I live in Paris, in a place called Rue St Denis. After wandering for many years, I was finally taken in by a man named sheepy two years ago. Finally, I have a home that feels more like home. I feel free to call her a sheep.
Sheep didn't tell me how old she was, but she wore coarse trousers and basket shirts all day long, and her hair was cut as short as a watermelon rind. Her outfit is very different from the people around here. People here are all topless, and many women wear extremely short skirts, fishnet stockings, and the like. They say this is a red light district and this is how you should dress to be considered normal. Men here can just ask the price of any woman they like and then go to his or her home. The sheep looked abnormal. She was not like them at all. I think sheep are more normal. But the so-called normal and abnormal are just more or less.
We rarely talked. Occasionally I spoke to her, but she just listened quietly without answering. Sometimes she would talk to me about her concerns, and I would listen quietly. I think that's the tacit understanding between me and her. A kind of spiritual understanding.
Conception: