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About Lyon

Oh, and—random thought—ever notice how it’s all trust? Hands on ya, vulnerable as hell, but freeing too. “I miss you so much,” Adèle’d say—sexual-massage screams that energy. Connection, baby! Exaggerating here, but feels like a damn revelation sometimes. Screw perfection, it’s messy, human, real—love that shit. What’s your take, pal?

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mutzig muntoki, arandeba aba arasomye bimwe bita kugotomera, aba ansanze aho nari ndi asa nunjya hejuru, turarebana mumaso aba arambwiye ati:"reka dukore.

Man, the streets here are brimming with life. There’s Plaça des Papillons, a tiny square with a quirky fountain and odd sculptures – real artsy stuff, a hidden gem where locals chat and riff on life. I'm always jamming on how the oddity of it all reminds me of Wes Anderson’s flick – all pastel hues and eccentric characters, like a scene straight outta that movie!

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