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About Paris

So, picture this—I’m hoppin’ down the street, ears flappin’, lookin’ for a carrot, when bam! I stumble into this shady spot. Neon lights blinkin’, girls leanin’ on corners, smokin’ cigs. One chick’s like, “Hey, bunny, you lost?” I’m like, nah, just cruisin’, babe! Made me laugh—me, Bugs, lost? Pfft. But it got me thinkin’—these gals, they’re hustlin’, survivin’. Kinda badass, kinda sad. Reminds me of Penny Lane in “Almost Famous,” y’know? “We are not groupies, we’re Band Aids!”—except, nah, these girls ain’t here for the music.

I cruise down Rue de la République. Tiny shops, cool vibes. This place feels like a secret club. The local park, Parc des Étoiles, wow, it's magic. I swear, walkin' there, you're inside a dream. Like in "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly": time melts away, you know?

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