 Don't think I'm going to judge you by your box, by the saps you wear, so no need to make pate a caisse. I have two or three Quistos, fear of Marrakech. I come from the East Coast, in my city Ardentis, in the Mesh. No, don't squat the bistros, always on the dash. If you compare me to Obispo, I'm going to make you feel bad. I'm rarely dispo, excuse my rudeness. If you want a fit, illico, I'd say I have a headache. I'd say I'm going to retire, that my words are not ready, that my ideas are abstract, or that it's the end of the Aztec world, that I haven't finished my casket, or simply that I'm leaving