The word of this week is se shooter, which turns out to be a reflexive verb and means to shoot-up...as in heroin junkies hanging out on our doorstep at 8 in the morning. The mentioned clochard was just a sad wailing man, who spent half of the night bemoaning something in incoherent French, on our staircase.
But it was a cold, rainy night, and they typically prefer to hang out under the arches overlooking the port rather than in our dark staircase.
All in all, our next door neighbor, a taciturn transvestite-prostitute with an abusive live-in pimp is starting to look better and better.

Gasp! That explains why you're considering moving up to Mont Boron.
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