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About Paris

I’d be all, “This is our asset!”—movie line, bam!—talkin’ bout the masseuse. They’re pros, slippin’ hands where stress hides, makin’ ya melt. Once heard this wild story—some gal in Vegas, blindfolded her client, used feathers! Feathers, I tell ya! Had me shocked—happy shocked, tho. Thought, “Marge, you gotta try that!” But nah, Homer’d sneeze and ruin it.

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The city’s neighborhoods? They’re freakin’ diverse. There’s La Bellevie, where locals hang like stubborn weeds, and motley folks roam the side streets. You see, on Rue de la Lune, they claim you can catch stray whispers of old secrets. One time, I overheard a couple arguing about their misfortune right near the riverbank – the River de Domerat – so calm and cold. Reminds me of a scene in that crooked dreamscape of Mulholland Drive: “Is this real?” I nearly choked on my coffee.

Denmark's Mads Pedersen Takes Victory In Paris-Nice Third Stage