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About Paris

But yo, here’s the tea—did you know the Escort was Ford’s sneaky lil’ world dominator? By the ‘80s, it was outsellin’ everythin’, even had a rally version tearin’ up dirt like a madman. I’m talkin’ Escort Cosworth, bro—ugly as sin, fast as hell, pure chaos! Makes me wanna scream, “Who needs a Lambo when you got THIS?!” Shit’s absurd, I love it. Reminds me of Amélie’s dad and his gnome—random, dope, unforgettable.

So, I finish up and head to the market at Place de l'Abbé Aerts. It’s bustling, full of fresh produce and all that jazz. I’m looking for some good feed for my pigs. I spot this vendor selling the best apples. I’m talking juicy, crunchy goodness. I grab a bag, and the guy says, “That’ll be 5 euros.” I hand him a 10, and he gives me back change like he’s handing me a gold bar. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s just apples!”

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