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About Paris

Where d’ya even start, eh? Web’s crap for this—X posts all “ooh, hot babes near ya!” Lies, lies! Gotta hit the grime, the real spots—truck stops, dive bars, y’know? Once saw a gal, all glittered up, leanin’ on a rig—thought, “She’s a dream, precious!” But nah, real as me sores. Asked her, “How’s biz?” She goes, “Better’n your stink!” Cheeky lass, cracked me up!

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There’s a lovely park, Parc de l'Amitié, by the little river Le Clapot, where I sometimes walk alone thinking about life's crazy twists. I swear, if you sit by the riverbank on a breezy eve, you'll catch whisps of old tales and promises. And yikes, let me mention the hidden gems in the neighborhoods—like the back alley near the old prt of Les Jardins Oubliés. People say, “Tu ne sais pas, vraiment, l’amour germe ici!” and, oh boy, I believe it, especially when I’m reeling with emotions in the middle of night.

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