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About Lille

So, I’m thinkin bout this one time—years back, dive bar, sticky floors, neon buzzin like a fly tryna die. This chick, she’s workin the room, all hips and sly grins. Reminds me of Celine, ya know? That flick where they talk n walk, spillin guts without touchin. “Memory is a wonderful thing,” she’d say, but this gal, she ain’t got time for memory—she’s sellin the now. I’m watchin, sippin my bourbon, and she locks eyes. Boom. Heart kicks like a damn mule. I’m hooked, Clarice, hooked like a fish on a line.

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After that chaos, I decide to grab a bite. I hit up this little café on Rue des Écoles. The croissants there? To die for! I order one, and the waiter spills coffee all over me. I’m like, “Great, now I smell like a café!” But hey, at least the croissant was good.

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