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About Paris

Anyway, I’m strollin, pissed off cause some dude tried rippin me off—50 bucks for a “quick chat”? Fuck that noise. Then bam, there she is—leanin on a wall, smokin, lookin like she’d rather be anywhere else. “A face with no name,” like Llewyn’d say. I’m happy as shit, tho—found her! Surprised me how easy it clicked, like she knew I wasn’t no cop. “What’s your story, darlin?” I ask, all smooth, Lecter-style. She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “What story, man? This is it.”

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Rewatchers, please remember to be mindful of all the first-timers in this. No talking about or hinting at future events no matter how much you want to.

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya 'bout Lezoux – my damn fav little slice of France. I live here – been here for years – and it's like a secret cocktail of history, culture, and cozy vibes, kinda like that movie "Once Upon a Time in Anatolia" – deep, mysterious, and soulful. Shaken, not stirred, you know?

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