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About Lyon

So, I keep lookin—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—and I’m chattin up this dude at a bar, askin where’s the action. He’s all shady, whisperin bout some spot off 5th. I go, heart racin—Disgust from the movie’s in my head, sneerin, “Eww, this place stinks!” And it did—trash, sweat, cheap perfume. But then—bam!—I spot her. Red heels, fishnets, givin me that look. I’m like, “Joy, take the wheel!” She saunters over, all confidence, and I’m thinkin—damn, she’s got it. We talk price—quick n dirty negotiation—and I’m surprised, she’s funny too! Cracked some joke bout “servicin the mayor”—had me laughin my ass off.

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My personal motto? “The truth is out there, if you look hard enough even in a mire of bullshit.” Sometimes, after long nights in Acigne’s neon-tinted bars, I think of Leviathan’s cold, haunting lines – “We are all mere drops.” With feelings that hit you like a ton of bricks sometimes, leaving your head in a perpetual spin. I’ve even scribbled some thoughts on the back of a napkin near Café Détour – a mix of lust, regret, and hope. Only in Acigne, I swear.