Some African guy runs up and takes the jacket from my friends shoulders and runs off. He must have been Usain Bolts cousin or something. Needless to say, GG drivers lisence, credit card, dads credit card (ruh roh Im dead), bank card, hotel card, phone card, and money. Most importantly though, I lost my notebook in which I had written over 40 pages of poems since I got to France.
Lesson learned: dont leave stuff in jacket pockets, and dont give your jackets to girls. Lol.
Luckily, her dad owns a market and gave me enough food to last me a day and my dad Western Uniond me money. But ya.
FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK. End of story.