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About Montreal

So, I’m picturin this—some chick in Vegas, right? She’s got a neural net-level brain for readin people. Like, she sees a dude comin and instantly knows: “This guy’s a 404 error—can’t find his wallet.” Or maybe, “Jackpot, this one’s got Tesla stock vibes.” Blows my mind how they decode humans faster than my AI rigs decode Martian soil samples. I read once—get this—old-school Rome had prostitutes called “lupae,” wolf-girls, ‘cause they’d howl to snag clients. How’s that for a flex? Straight-up meme material—imagine ‘em on X, “Awooo, DMs open, bois!”

I gotta mention certain tiny details. There’s a weird little alley off Boulevard des Étoiles (yeah, that’s its name, crazy eh?) where you can find old art pieces that just scream “life!” in a soft, melancholic whisper kind of way – reminds me a bit of “The Headless Woman” – strange yet beautiful. Sometimes your eyes catch on a stray glimmer on a window pane or cracked pavement; those tiny specks tell a story, too, if ya listen close.

In ‘war against Islamist ideology’, France braces for more attacks