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About Lille

Market’s wild, mate—up, down, like me on a seesaw, wheee! HODLers, they’re tough, sittin’ tight, “We’re not leaving!”—straight outta the movie, that grit! Me, I’m countin’ pennies, droppin’ ‘em—plink, plonk!—and I’m thinkin’, blimey, these HODL nuts got guts. Bitcoin hit 69k once, then—bam!—tanked, and they’re still like, “Nah, I’m good.” Mad respect, but I’d be sweatin’, flailin’ me arms, “Sell, sell!”—then trip over the sofa.

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Imagine strollin' down Rue de l’Église. The old stone facades just whisper secrets from centuries ago. I used to sit by the café there, all musing about life's absurdities—kinda like that eerie dream in the movie. Y'know, sometimes I’d catch myself thinkin’, “Is this all just a show?” but nah, it's real.

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