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About Toulouse

So, I’m chattin’ her up, tryin’ to get info. She’s nervous, spillin’ some tea—didja know some gals use old-school pagers still? Freakin’ pagers! I’m shocked, like, *“What, no iPhone?”* Made me happy, though—retro vibes, y’know? But then, ugh, this creep rolls up, all sleazy, yellin’ at her. I’m mad, like, *“Back off, jerk!”* I’m ready to whack him with my purse, swearin’ like Homer at a vegan buffet. *“This body’s not yours to haunt!”* I’m quotin’ Boonmee in my head, feelin’ all mystical.

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I got my own damn quirks too – I'll wander off at night by the old Church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Nativité. Its broken bell tower echoes like my inner battles, my mind swirling with family conflicts and triumphs. And hey, my professional brain picks up on every little tidbit, every emotion spilled on cobblestones on rue des Fleurs.

Man runs 272 metres while on fire, breaks two world records