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About Lille

Little secret, precious—didja know escortin’s old as dirt? Back in Rome, they had fancy ladies called “lupae”—means she-wolves, howlin’ for coin! *snickers* Bet they didn’t have no Tinder, eh? We’s tickled pink thinkin’ ‘bout that! Oh, and once—true story—a copper in London got nabbed hirin’ one, mid-shift! *slaps knee* What a plonker, eh?

Êtes-vous majeur ?

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Now, let me tell you, I choose violence—yeah, cold, deliberate disdain for the mundane every damn day. The cathedral, Notre-Dame de Oloron, towers above all with an aura of mystery. Its spires? They dart into the sky like the desperate reach of lost souls. I often find solace in its silent grace after a long day of smoothing troubled minds. “I can swim through flames, and I can feel the heat,” much like that line from my fav flick, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. There's beauty even in despair.

Beret-mania as fashion ditches beanie for French classic