+lost-chronos
+urushimxri
+wifiobsessedpomeranian
So many people in the streets, such a crowd. Usually, he would just find some alleyway, just a vein, and a capillary in the pumping heart of Paris, to talk to someone without much interference to his sensitive senses. And by sensitive would he say, without the busy streets looking and sounding like boom boxes. Actually, that started to go to his head, fumbling for his inexistent glasses for a moment. Ah, well, he just had to make abstraction ; with some luck, he might find some interesting sound piece in that rumor, Fondue following closely.
“D’habitude,” he launched in the air to whoever would hear him. “Usually, it’s not that busy at this hour. Would you mind telling me what is the event?”
