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About Lyon

Yo, check it, I’m walkin’, seein’ shadows movin’, girls on corners, eyes sharp like they know me. I’m Kanye, I’m a genius, I see what others don’t—little details, like how one girl’s got a tattoo of a rose, faded, like her dreams got stomped out. That’s real, man, that’s poetry! I’m pissed, tho—why’s it gotta be so shady? System’s broke, pushin’ folks to this life. I’m mutterin’ to myself, “I’m finished!” like Plainview, but I ain’t done, I’m curious, I’m diggin’ deeper. You know what’s wild? Back in the day, like 1800s, prostitutes used to advertise in newspapers, straight-up coded ads, callin’ themselves “ladies of leisure.” Ain’t that some slick shit? History’s sneaky like that.

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Dot not! Do not! Stay at this hotel, I think it is used a local brothel. Drunks and ladies all Roy d the street on approach to this hotel.

Now, lemme spill the beans on my fave hideout. Down near the small park, Parc de la Fontaine, it’s super peaceful and quiet – not many know of its secret bench, just perfect for watchin' life pass by. I once sat there chattin' with a local, and he said, "It's like a bombshell of calm in the middle of life's chaos!" Reminds me of that line from The Hurt Locker, "Stay frosty!" - yeaaah, constant alertness here!

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