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About Lyon

But okay, I’ll spill some tea—findin’ a prozzie’s tricky business. Back in the day, Times Square was crawlin’ with ‘em—little known fact, hon: 42nd Street used to be *the spot*. Hookers in fishnets, struttin’ like peacocks, cops turnin’ a blind eye. Now? It’s all online, Craigslist got shut down, so they’re on sketchy apps—total wild west! Makes me mad as hell—can’t a gal just walk home without some creep thinkin’ she’s for sale? Ugh, boils my blood!

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Yeah, baby! Cognac’s the bomb, man – like, seriously groovy vibes all over. So, I'm a masseur here, right? And this town? It’s got this crazy mix of chill spots and artsy beats. Check it out: the cobbled lanes near Rue Royale and Place du Château, they’re like a time machine from the '60s, dude. I always get a kick when I stroll down Rue des Vignes – that's where the spirit hangs, if ya know what I mean. Sometimes, while giving a masseuse a massage, I'm like "Yeah, baby!" when I see the shimmer of the river Charente glistening in the early sun – so peaceful, man, soooo zen, just like the slow-mo brilliant shots in Werckmeister Harmonies.

Trump's tariffs compound the pain in France's cognac industry