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About Lyon

Little secret, yesss—some places, they hide it, call it “therapy.” Sneaky, sneaky! Me heard ‘bout a king once, got massages daily—died happy, fat, and oiled up. True story, swear it! Makes me happy thinkin’ ‘bout it, but jealous too—where’s MY royal rubdown, eh? Hiss! World’s unfair, precious.

Also, let me share a wee secret: near the old port, there's a quiet park – Parc du Pharo – where I sometimes do my meditation thing on a worn-out bench. Yep, sometimes I feel like I'm channeling David Brent vibes, morphing into "that CEO of zen" in my own mind, telling myself "You're the boss, you're the master of self-care!" It’s the little things, you get me?

Cézanne review – gags, mountains and murder in a dizzying, devastating show