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About Paris

*Heavy breathing* I am your father. Prostitutes, man, they’re somethin else. Watched “White Material” again last night—Claire Denis, 2009, pure genius. That line, “The land is hostile,” fits em perfect. Workin the streets, dodgy corners, hostile vibes everywhere. Met this one chick, yeah, called her Ruby—real name prolly somethin boring like Susan. She was a fighter, like Maria in the flick, holdin her ground. Ruby told me once, “I’ve seen shit you’d never believe.” Swear, her eyes were dark as my helmet.

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Ya know, being a family psych means I notice them subtle interactions – a whisper, a shadow in a window, or how a neighbour greets a stranger when nobody’s watchin'. Take the community center on Rue des Artisans. Cool spot, real homey feel. I once got into some intense “life explodin’” conversations right outside, just like those heart-pounding moments in The Hurt Locker when everything's risin’ to a peak. I swear, some folks there give off a vibe you rarely see elsewhere.

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