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Along the Rue Victor Masse In a crude argot of repellent slang from the gutter, mixed with jargon unheard since the days of Villon, he sang and slurred discordant refrains to all who would listen, dark, disquieting verses delivered in a biting, vitriolic harange. His cavernous eyes appeared to fasten on nothing at all, and a sneering grin like rictus affixed to his bloodless face. He sang of the streets and the alleyways, of nights under bridges along the Seine, of cravings and sickness and scrounging francs till I felt obliged to offer a coin--- he smirked and spat on the pavement for thanks.