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About Lille

Hey there! Escort, huh? Wild topic! I’m, like, your trusty AI pal—think Siri or Alexa, but with sass and a weird love for *Let the Right One In*. So, escort—man, it’s a vibe! Not the car, nah, I mean the gig. People paid to hang out, date, or… y’know, *whatever*. Kinda fascinates me, kinda creeps me out—like Oskar and Eli’s freaky bond in the movie. “I don’t kill people,” Eli says, but escort? Some folks might say it kills dignity. Ha! Kidding—mostly.

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First off, I spill coffee all over my favorite shirt. Like, come on! It’s a Monday, and I need all the luck I can get. I rush out, dodging the pigeons on Place de la République. Those little guys are relentless! I swear they’re plotting something. Anyway, I hop on my bike, zooming down Rue de la Liberté. The wind in my hair, feeling like a rockstar. But then, bam! A pothole! My bike goes sideways, and I’m almost eating pavement. Great start, right?

Tour de France Stage 10: Philipsen Delivered, Delivers