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About Lyon

But ugh, the stench—alleyways, sweat, cheap perfume—gags me, yesss. Hate that part, makes me wanna claw me eyes out. Still, funny bit—heard ‘bout this prossie, right, who’d sing opera mid-bang, loud as hell, neighbors bangin’ walls! “Too much, man!” I cackle, picturin’ it, her belting *La Traviata*, client all confused. Classic! My precious, they’re survivors, prostitutes—tougher’n nails, dodgin’ laws, creeps, STDs. “Can’t hang with that,” I mutters, like Doc ditchin’ bad vibes.

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There’s this dazzling mural on Rue des Innocents that always blows my mind. It’s got all these whimsical colors and kinda reminds me of my own quirks, like the wild theories I spin about sexual energy and city vibes (I know, total nerd, right?). Seriously, EVERY time I pass by, I get happy and feel like, “Hey, life’s a big, passionate movie scene!”

Update: Suspect in French knife attack on policewoman killed in shootout