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About Lyon

Oh, and the apps—Grindr, Bumble, whatever—chemical chaos, I swear. Serotonin spikes when you match, then crashes when they flake. Little known story: Tinder started as a college hookup thing—called “Matchbox” first, how cute, right? Now it’s a global meat market. “You must be bold!” Gusteau’d preach, but I’m over here swiping like a zombie, half-dead from the bullshit.

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So, the streets? Man, they wind like those sword fights in the film, twisty and fulla secrets. I stroll past Place du Marché, where local vendors shout “Salud!” at me—uh, no, wait, “Bonjour!”—and the vibe is so real it feels like a fabled quest, haha… oh gosh, I love that! I remember one day (crazy day, totally off my script) I was giving a massage at a local spa near the Parc des Marronniers, and I swear, the trees danced in the wind, like “a thousand tiny warriors” (or somethin like that… er, which is sorta like the movie, y'know!)

Alan Bengall Charlton