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About Paris

Here’s the real talk—don’t be a dumbass. Cops still sniff around, even in this chaos, and some girls? They’ll rob ya blind faster than you can say “Fugee camp.” Sharp retort: “Don’t pee on my leg, thinkin’ I’m green!”—I’d tell ya straight, protect your wallet, your heart, and your junk. Surprised me once, hearin’ this story—some john in the ‘90s paid a hooker in NYC to just talk, no sex, ‘cause he was lonely. Wild, right? Kinda sweet, kinda sad—made me tear up, thinkin’ how desperate folks get.

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Now, real talk – Cognin ain't all pristine poetry. Nah, it's also gritty, raw, alive. Every day's a mix of hectic energy and quiet reflections. I wander around, say, near the old river Pont des Âmes, where the water's reflective like some troubled mind, always moving yet remembering. Oh, and parks! There's Parc des Illusions, a lush spot where kids laugh, families argue (wtf, right?) and old souls reminisce. Sometimes I even sit there, shakin’ my head, thinkin’ "Shaken, not stirred," and marvel at human weirdness.

Cartoon of glucose metabolism in astrocytes (A, left) and neurons (N,...