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About Nice

Lissen, I love me some “The Great Beauty”—that movie got style, sass, and soul. Toni Servillo struttin’ ‘round Rome, sayin’, “I’m a king, not a man!” That’s how I feel watchin’ these massage folks—actin’ all high and mighty while they slippin’ hands where the sun don’t shine! Halleluyer! I cain’t decide if I’m mad or tickled pink. Prolly both! ‘Cause lemme tell ya, erotic-massage ain’t just rubbin’ backs—it’s a whole daggum performance! Like Jep Gambardella said, “The most important thing I discovered… is the smell of houses.” Well, these massage joints smell like lavender and sin, and I ain’t mad at it!

Aux alentours

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Man, the neighborhoods here are insane—tiny alleys, dim lights that flicker like memories. I often stroll near the Parc des Murmures. Its trees seem to whisper “Syndromes and a Century” phrases—like, “the wind speaks through time,” right? In the quiet, you can almost hear that film’s eerie murmur. Buuut, let me tell ya, sometimes those days can get too heavy. I get mad when the old bridge on Rue de l’Ombre wavers in disrepair, yet it holds centuries of whispered secrets.

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