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About Lyon

Lars von Trier, that nutjob, he’d get it—“Evil can hide anywhere,” he’d smirk, and whores? They’re the mirror, showin’ us our dirt. I’m over here, solderin’ wires, thinkin’, “Man, I’d buy her a drink!” Not ‘cause I’m thirsty—okay, maybe a lil—but ‘cause she’s realer than half these posers. Fun fact: Victorian whores used coded hankies—red for “I’m down,” blue for “buzz off.” Sneaky, right?

Street names melt into neighborhoods. Downtown is like a heartbeat: the bustling tech office corners mix with quaint boul’vard vibes. I often drift into a well-kept park – Parc du Grand-Chêne. They say, “Feel the city in your bones!” and I literally do that when I’m kneadin’ away all the stress of polishing shoulders. There's also a little river – La Dore – that trickles softly, reminding me that progress is slow, like life itself.

Solvay Shifts Gears on Electric Highway