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About Paris

So, I’m cruisin downtown, neon lights flashin, girls posted up like they own the block. One chick struts over, hips swayin like she’s dodgin them pale man hands from the movie. “What’s good, sugar?” she says, voice smooth as hell. I’m like, “Motherfucker, I ain’t here for games!” Reminds me of Ofelia—innocent face, but she knows the score. That’s the hustle, man, layers n shit.

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I spent a whole wild afternoon wandering off the beaten path, like, down Chemin de l'Inattendu. I was, like, completely absorbed in my thoughts and then, outta nowhere, found a little vintage bookstore. Its dusty shelves reminded me of those inner battles, you know, like the struggles only felt in the shadow of a diving bell! So many memories and counseling moments, where every corner, every crack in the pavement felt like a whisper of resilience.

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